First Chair Violinist
by Ongaku no Usagi
Summary: The Rabbit is left behind, free to choose his own life, yet without the one he loves. Will he fulfill the dream he told Tohru about? Will he find "a great sweetheart" after all?
1. Chapter 1: Intrada

Disclaimer: Fruits Basket and all of the original cast belong to Takaya Natsuki. This pertains to this and all upcoming chapters on "First Chair Violinist."

Rated T for adult themes, use of multiple languages and general egg-headed humor. Please don't be afraid to ask in the reviews if you don't understand some of the words/terminology I use.

Chapter 1: Intrada

So they had finally left. No one could really believe it yet, of course; the idea that the sunshine of the Sohmas had left and taken that cloud, now not so stormy, with her, had still not sunk in with those who were left behind. The Rabbit, rosining his bow, still looked up eagerly when he heard the knock on his door, as if expecting the half-a-face smile and cheerful voice of Tohru-kun. Nevertheless, he was not altogether disappointed when all that poked inside was the fluffy white hair of Hatsuharu.

"Yo," was the enthused greeting.

"Nice to see you, Haru! Ah, and," opening the door wider, "Rin!"

She nodded curtly in reply and wordlessly took off her shoes, entering. Haru followed behind, one hand smartly placed on the small of her back. Momiji closed the door gently and turned around. Haru took a brief glance around the sunshine-spilt room.

"Not as spacious as your room back at the main house," he said, "but it certainly holds your personality in better."

Momiji grinned and prudently refrained from looking over the walls, plastered with posters of the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra, pictures of Tohru (oh, and also the others), and miscellaneous rabbit paraphernalia. "Suits me fine," he said. "Besides, I feel like I have more room to breathe here than I ever did over there." Ultimately, it was the kind of place where someone felt relaxed, comfortable.

Haru joined Rin on an oversized, overstuffed bean bag on the floor. "Our place is bigger," he bragged. Rin turned her large, unsettling dark-blue eyes on him and blinked, purposely. Haru got the hint and became slightly "sunburnt" around the cheeks. Momiji ignored this statement, since although he disapproved of the nature of Haru and Rin's relationship, neither was he going to condemn their way of living. Instead, he nimbly changed the subject.

"Last year of high school, finally!" he said, grinning widely and leaning against the black coat-tails of the conductor of the Tokyo Phil. "Granted," his countenance falling somewhat, "Some of the life will have left that school."

Haru, unwisely taking the opportunity to notice the certain picture Momiji's eyes drifted to, commented, "Yeah, well at least she's taken the cat with her." Then, realizing the bluntness of what he had just said, blundered, "I mean, it's not like it's a good thing he's gone, too, I mean he was rather fun to fight once in a while and when you really think about it…"

"Yeah, yeah, don't try to cover up," Rin said, looking away. "In any case, things certainly seem a bit…bare…around here now."

Haru, who had taken the opportunity to stare at such "bare" areas on his girlfriend's person, reddened more and subsided.

Yes, things were more bare, thought Momiji after the couple had left. Life was more bare…like a tapestry worn thin. The colors were not as bright; the fringe had been torn away. He hadn't really realized until she had left just what she had meant to him. Three years trying to cover up his feelings…more successfully than Kyo, at least. But he had known from the beginning he couldn't have her. So this was it, then…a lifeless life. Something to do…he needed something to do. Something to patch up the holes in the thread-bare tapestry.

It was fortunate, therefore, that a week before the fall term began, he discovered the poster outside the ice-cream shop.

"City orchestra…blah blah blah...looking for local talent from ages 16 up…more blah...call ###-###-####...ask for Batsushi Fujita. Hmm…"

Pencil, rabbit mini-notebook. "Batsushi Fujita, funny name," he muttered aloud. "I wonder if he'll let me call him Shi-san. Not likely."

* * *

The ten minutes after the first day of school left him staring at his watch and wondering what to do. "Shi-san" had gruffly informed him that he ought to arrive at the concert hall at six o'clock, and to have his violin ready. His apartment was on the opposite side from school, so there was really no point to head back there for twenty minutes.

"Ah, time to kill," he said nonchalantly. "Hmm, what to do? What to do? Ah, I've got it!" he said finally. "Popsicle!"

Yet, when he arrived in front of the frozen-food section of the market, he found himself unwilling to open that glass door. Cheerful red, yellow and blue boxes greeted him from inside, but for some reason he couldn't reach inside. When was the last time he had eaten one of these durned things? Oh, yes, with that cheerful brown-haired young lady, the one fondly called "Tohru-chan".

He turned away. There was no joy in popsicles without her to share them.

He took a deep sigh and wandered aimlessly up and down aisles. A squat, plump jar eyed him from the shelf, and he narrowed his eyes at it. They stood there for a minute, staring at each other. It insolently refused to blink, so Momiji did, first. "Ah, damn you," he said, and suddenly realized that there were more staring at him than the pickle jar. To be specific, a mother with two children playing in her long skirt, a junior-high boy with bandaged knees, and an elderly man leaning on a cane, who hobbled up to him and said, "Do you need any help, sonny?"

"Ah, no," said Momiji, turning slightly red (had he ever done that before?) and flusteredly picked up the jar and walking to the cashier.

"350 yen, kudasai," from behind the counter elicited a digging-through pockets for change, and, deaf to the cashier's offer of a bag, the somewhat embarrassed young man walked out of the market, pickle jar under arm.

* * *

It was the first thing she noticed. Stopping at E flat in the middle of her B flat minor warm-up scales, she unconsciously stood up, scooting the bench farther away from the piano as she did so. The rehearsal room suddenly went out of focus in favor of the object of her admiration.

Ah, her favorite thing in the world!

Momiji, setting the pickles underneath his chair amid bemused glances from the other violin and viola players, noticed the slight young lady at the piano staring at him. He smiled and raised a hand in greeting, and then sat down to arrange the sheet music he had been given on the stand in front of him. This proved to be a bit of a trick. As soon as he had neatly placed the music on the stand, it immediately shifted ten degrees to the left, and said music slid off said stand onto the floor. When he had finally balanced the stand to his satisfaction, the bass trombone, fat, balding, slightly puffing out of breath, knocked the stand to the right as he hurried by; so the process began again. He had just begun the well-practiced process of tuning his strings when he suddenly became conscious of a presence standing directly in front of him. When he looked up, he beheld the close-up version of the young lady at the piano. She looked like one of those people who try to make the people around her comfortable and happy, but who also have more than the usual helping of humor. She also looked as though she might have an evil side. Frankly, Momiji was amused.

"Ah, ah, shitsurei shimasu," she said, in a voice that could have belonged to a female Yuki, (of course, would there be any difference?) "are those…pickles?"

"Hai," said Momiji, smiling, albeit somewhat confusedly. "Would you like one?"

"Oh, please don't go out of your way for me…"

"Dozo!"

"Itadakimasu," said the young lady, not waiting to be asked again, and immediately opened the jar he offered her, picking out a spear and eating it in three bites. Momiji fought to keep his laughter inside. As it was, he succeeded in making his face rather red. Hers was too, of course, having eaten the blessed thing the way she had.

"You enjoy cucumber pickles, then?" he asked, a stubborn muscle in his cheek twitching.

"Ahhh, I'm afraid I've made a nuisance of myself," she said, turning redder (if it were possible), and looking away.

He screwed the lid tightly back on and offered her his (rabbit embroidered) handkerchief, which she delicately wiped her fingers on and gave back to him. "Not at all," he said, thinking rather that he needed the distraction of light, unconscious comedy to tear his mind away for the topic which generally haunted his mind. "I hope you enjoyed it."

"Oh, hai!" she said, eagerly, looking up at him. As she did, he noticed how large her dark-green eyes were, like pines in November, and smiled gently, thinking that, perhaps, she wasn't bad-looking, despite her awkwardness. She noticed the gaze and, since her face was as red as red could get, turned purple instead.

"Ahem, ahem, attention, please!" the conductor said. The young lady looked up and hurried back to her brown parlor-grand (Chicago Irving, if you wanted to know) piano. Certainly, "Shi-san" did not look like the pictures of the conductors in the orchestras Momiji had pored over. He wore glasses that were most likely bifocals, gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. Although for his face he might have been in his fifties, his posture and gait betrayed him for his late sixties. He tapped on the stand with his baton and said, "Let's begin from concert letter D, please, in the Mendelssohn _Konzertstücke_."

It was fortunate that Momiji was a good sight-reader, or he soon would have become lost in the flurry of notes that strung out as pearls on manuscript paper. He noted that the players around him, far fewer first violins than in a real orchestra, were struggling with the notes almost as much as he was. The bassoon was slightly sharp, as if the player had tried too hard to tune it, and the second horn…ah, the second horn. Oh, well, he had gotten himself into this, now, and he wasn't going to back down.

However, he was very glad when rehearsal finally ended, an hour and a half later. The sky was beginning to fade into navy, and his right shoulder was sore after having been jabbed half-a-dozen times by the tip of the bow of the violinist sitting too close to him. He loosened the hair on his bow and put his violin carefully away. Then he bent over and picked up those pickles, which he had the slight feeling had been mocking him ever since the start of rehearsal. When he straightened, he realized that the same presence from earlier was standing in front of him.

"I…I didn't introduce myself from earlier," she said, bowing and incidentally banging her head into the stand slightly, which tilted and rocked its three extraordinarily uneven feet. "My name is Hime Michiko. I'm the pianist…when they need one."

"Hajimemashite, Hime-san," Momiji said, standing up and bowing in his turn, carefully avoiding said stand. "My name is…"

"Michiko!" She turned at the sound of her name, and they both saw a middle-aged man, tall and slightly-built, waving at her from the doorway leading outside.

"Je viens, Pere!" she said, and turning back to Momiji said, "I need to leave. Please treat me well in our future encounters."

"Kochira koso," replied Momiji, but she had already left.

Notes:

Kudasai: please

Shisturei shimasu: excuse me; I'm making a nuisance of myself

Hai: yes

Dozo: help yourself

Itadakimasu: thank you for the food

Hajimemashite: nice to meet you

Kochira koso: same to you


	2. Chapter 2: Libramente

Chapter 2: Libramente

School was about the same, but different. School is the kind of place where you might meet new friends, or new enemies. Where you might become popular, or shunned completely. He knew too many people like that. Someone Momiji didn't know other than by sight had been elected president of the student council, and his attitude was more reflectant of Makoto than Yuki. Same high-and-mighty, "I am the school" attitude—Momiji was glad that Yuki was not around to obtain female idol-worship from said president.

Short brown hair and squinting eyes appeared briefly around the corner, then disappeared. A second later, tiger's-eye colored hair and eyes took their place, and then widened and smiled.

"Haru-nii chan!" A flash of golden-orange, and a new-high school student Kisa dove at the tall shadow that had just appeared over Momiji's shoulder. Albeit, the Ox was no longer much taller than the Rabbit, and hence it was the latter that attracted attention more than the former. In any case, it was still Haru who'd attracted the slim young lady with the speed of a pin to a magnet. The Sheep followed reluctantly, still sarcastic, yet somewhat softened. He strolled up to Momiji and stared brazenly up at him.

"So, have you gotten over her yet?"

Momiji ignored the sting and instantly changed the subject. "Shouldn't you be at your junior high school?"

The eyes slid around a bit. "No," he replied, after a slight pause. "I got special permission to move up to high school early." Momiji smiled.

"Ii desu yo!" he said, knowing not to ask the reason why. Even though Hiro was definitely big enough to be in high school, the real reason was that he had a mind that demanded more challenge; however, it would embarrass Hiro to be asked. He glanced over at the ecstatic Kisa, excitedly talking to Haru about her classes and teachers. She appeared not to notice the multitude of somewhat bewildered looks from the people passing. Momiji secretly hoped she would not receive the treatment she had from her middle school.

"Rin." Momiji looked back at the young man, only slightly shorter than himself. "How is she doing?"

"She's fine," the Rabbit replied. "Same attitude, just like yours."

"Hmph." He straightened up somewhat and looked away, his chin tilted at a jaunty angle. Momiji leaned down so that he was almost eye level with Hiro.

"Listen, you've got to be a bit…"

"Yeah, I know. I actually listen to what other people say to me…unlike some people." He looked back at Momiji, and the look in his eyes startled Momiji ever so slightly.

"What are you talking about?" he said in a low voice. Hiro leaned his head closer to him slightly.

"You know what I'm talking about. Everyone has been telling you…just get over her, stop obsessing. It's not healthy, constantly thinking about her. Find someone else, leave the past in the past. Do you honestly think you're going to get anywhere, constantly obsessing, continually thinking about the way things have been? Is it going to make your life easier? You'll get stuck in your mind, in your memories, baka Rabbit. Just. Stop."

Before Momiji could collect his thoughts in order to retort, to defend, to do what he knew not, Kisa grabbed Hiro's hand.

"C'mon, we'll be late," she said, and the two of them walked off to class, not until she had hugged Haru goodbye, however.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see said Ox behind him. "Yo," he said, "we'd better take our cue from those kids. C'mon."

With that, the two of them walked up the nearest flight of stairs and into their classroom.

Their class had never been particularly interesting. There was a girl or two who had her eyes on Haru (who never looked back), and a girl or five who watched Momiji (who was completely unaware). Because Haru was frightening and Momiji had never really grown up, most of the guys ignored them. However, this year there were two new faces…who looked, oddly enough, very similar.

The teacher, who didn't bother introducing students who had transferred in, left the students up to their own devices, and brother and sister, so everyone (correctly) assumed, found themselves introduced in the gaps before and after class started.

Being nearly late, Haru and Momiji had found the teacher walking in almost on the same air particles as themselves, and therefore there was no time to introduce themselves to the mysterious couple. But today, Momiji found himself returning the girl's smile as he slipped into his chair, and noticing unconsciously what nice teeth she had. Then he had to question himself on exactly how normal it was to be noticing other people's teeth. However, Momiji found himself investigating the girl (who sat a row ahead and to the left), and convinced himself he would acquaint himself with the boy, who sat behind.

She was slightly plump around the elbows and cheeks, as though she hadn't yet lost her baby fat, but her cheeks were delightfully pink, and her thin eyebrows were a shade darker than her curly brownish-red hair. She sat as if she and her chair had been pals for ages, with her ankles crossed and shoved beneath her chair, and her chin resting in the palms of her hands, elbows propped on her desk. She tilted her head so that her nose blocked the patch of sunlight that was shining into his eyes (albeit only for a few minutes), and her long, light eyelashes grazed her cheekbones when she blinked. The overall picture was so pleasant and friendly that Momiji nearly forgot about being friends with her brother, too. She seemed like the type you could take out for ice cream, who wouldn't worry about small things and who wouldn't turn up her freckled nose at a rabbit-shaped backpack.

It was no surprise, therefore, that during classroom cleanup, Momiji did not object when said pleasant lady began setting chairs on desks right next to him. She smiled, dimplingly, in his direction, and he noticed how her eyes nearly disappeared as she did so.

"It's Sohma Momiji, isn't it?" she said, neglecting normal Japanese etiquette and cutting to the chase.

"Ah…yes, it is. Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yes it is. Well, actually it's somewhat warm for my taste. Generally I prefer cooler weather."

"Ah, so desu ne?"

"Hai. We, that is, my brother and I, are from Norway. Little town, outside of Darlig ulv Stranden."

Momiji couldn't keep from laughing, and she joined in. Her laugh was full, somewhat dark in tone. "Yes, it's a funny name, I know. Especially here in Japan. Fortunately, my father is Japanese, otherwise I don't think Jakob and I would fit in at all, language, culture, food…Is it true you eat fish uncooked?"

"That goes without saying," said the rather confused Momiji. "By the way, your first name, I didn't quite catch it…Fura, is that it?"

"Iie, not quite. Freia. Nakamuro Freia."

"Fu-re-ia."

She laughed, shaking her head. "No, no, you don't put an "U" after the F. You have to squish the F and the R together."

"F(u)reia?"

"Ah, you'll get used to it. Anyway, the classroom is clean. Would you like to meet my brother?"

Her brother was tall, even taller than Haru, with the same reddish-brown hair as his sister; however, unlike his sister's laughing hazel eyes, his were serious and dark, dark brown. He held out his hand to shake with Momiji and didn't bow until after he had. "Hajimemashite, Sohma-san," he said, his dark eyes never leaving Momiji's, which made him feel slightly uncomfortable, though he could not say why. "How are you?"

"Er, fine, I guess," Momiji said, somewhat confused as to why someone he did not know would be inquiring after his health. "Nice weather, nee?"

"Oh, right. Yes. Well. What college do you think you will be going to?" he asked abruptly.

"Ah, I haven't decided yet. As a matter of fact…" He paused, not entirely sure why. What had he been about to say? He wasn't going? But that was silly. Of course he would be going…somewhere.

"I'm going to study in Norway," Jakob said, not aware that he was ignoring Momiji's reply. "I want to be a doctor, and the school I want to attend is back home."

"Oh, that's very good, of course," said Momiji, somewhat distractedly. "What kind of place is Norway?"

"It's home. There is no more beautiful place than Norway. During the winter, the ocean glints like crystal, and during the summer, it sings," Freia answered.

"Where do you two live now?"

"We live about three blocks east," she said. "As a matter of fact…mother will miss us. We'd better get going. But it was a genuinely wonderful experience to meet you, Momiji," she said, bowing, somewhat carelessly. Her brother, after a sidelong glance at her, bowed, as well.

"Hai, it was 'genuinely wonderful' to meet you both, too," Momiji said, bowing in return. "Well, I will look forward to talking with you in the future."

"You, too!" said Freia, waving as she and her brother turned and walked away. Momiji smiled.

Haru leaned on the doorframe beside him. "Well?" he said, looking keenly at the Rabbit.

"They are very nice people, I think," Momiji said.

"Especially…F(u)reia?" Haru said, nudging Momiji. He nudged back.

"Knock it off. She's nice, but I get the feeling she's just what I want for a friend, but nothing more."

"Yeah, yeah, just keep telling yourself that. Give her a little time to grow up; then you'll see. The older they get…the better they look."

"Ah, I should get going," Momiji said hurriedly. "I told someone I…that is I…well a bird ran into…I should go."

"'Bye," said that scheming Ox, waving nonchalantly. He noticed two girls standing in the corner, staring at the two. "Beat it," he said, and they jumped before hurrying away.

Nii-chan: big brother

Ii desu yo: that's good

Baka: stupid

So desu ne: is that so?

Iie: no


	3. Chapter 3: Pacato

Chapter 3: Pacato

For some reason, Momiji couldn't wait until Monday. Orchestra practices were on Monday, even though he realized "real" orchestras met every day. He wished he could be in one of those, anyway. This was the first step. Later would come more, better things.

On Sunday, he got a call.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Hello, may I speak to Sohma Momiji, please?"

"This is he."

"Hello, Sohma-san. This is Suzuki Koryo from Mohito Junior High. I have been informed by Dr. Sohma Hatori that you are an accomplished violin player."

"N-noo, not really…"

"I'd like to know if you would be interested in teaching violin to some of our pupils here at Mohito. There is a junior club starting for young musicians, and the demand for teachers exceeds our current supply. Would you be interested in teaching?"

Momiji thought for a minute. He'd never considered teaching before. For him, it was all about the music that came from his own hands—the only thing in life he could really control was that infinitesimally small distance between a note being sharp or flat. It was a feeling that was slightly addicting…but could he teach that to another person? Make them understand the difference between playing the notes and feeling the music?

"Sohma-san?"

"Hai, hai. Ano…could I think about your offer and get back to you soon?"

"Certainly. But please don't take too long in deciding. I will expect a call from you within the week."

"Hai. Could I have the number, please?"

Momiji scribbled the number down on a notepad and hung up. Afterwards he sat on his futon, still stunned. Hatori evidently thought he was capable of teaching, but he wasn't sure yet.

Hatori, like the rest of the Juunishi, had moved "outside" and had started his own private practice where his fiancée, Mayu, worked as his assistant. He was dissatisfied with the current trend of having the patients come to see the doctor, and instead used the old method of traveling to the patients himself. As a result, he worked long and strange hours, but got considerably more satisfaction from his work than he ever had slaving over Akito.

And Akito…where was he? Or, perhaps, though Momiji could still hardly believe it, where was _she_? Akito's appearance, coming out, so to speak, had surprised all of the Junishi…except, so it seemed, Hatori, Aaya, the little-seen Kureno, and Shigure himself who, after Akito's strange, humble apology to the Junishi, and abeyance to her own mother, had whisked her away with him, where they presumably lived together somewhere in the mountains. Even Momiji, who was by nature a born optimist and believer in human goodness, could scarcely believe the change which had been wrought in Akito. Where before there had been haughtiness, now there was humility. His harshness had changed into her gentleness. Love truly was a miracle; once it had transformed into jealousy and created harm to those around her—now, fulfilled, it beautified everything she looked at. As Momiji knew, the simple act of loving one person was capable of transforming an entire character.

He decided he would go see Hatori. Kanna had melted him from snow to spring; Mayu was turning spring into summer. Hari's smile was much more frequent, and he had even been heard joking with Kazuma-san the last time they had talked. Momiji had always liked Hari, for his kindness and sensitive nature; he was pleased to see that life that fallen in gentle lines for him. Love had come again.

Late spring rain was gently falling as he reached the train stop. It wasn't that he necessarily disliked the rain, but he was a little worried about his music getting wet. He ducked for the nearest cover to wait.

He glanced over said music for the next rehearsal on the train. Naturally, unbidden, the notes written on the pages so baldly graced into melodies in his head. Although he could hear all the instruments of the orchestra, the violin sang out sweetly, boldly, angrily, shyly. There was no sound like it; all the nuances of nature and emotion were available on four strings and a bow. Yet, he reflected, no melody was by itself complete. A violin solo was like a lonely spirit. The other instruments brought a colorful background to its tone.

The brakes screeched; the momentum stopped. He swung off the train. The sun had come out, and Hari's office was nearby. He took off his shoes at the entrance and told the servant at the door that he'd come to visit Hatori. A glance around revealed that that place had been touched by Mayu as one handles a baby. There were tiny patterns on the fusuma, delicate ikebana, and pictures, one of which Momiji recognized and smiled. Mayu was not so selfish as to rid Hatori's memory of Kana, it seemed. A moment later, Hatori himself appeared.

Hatori's face never "lit up"; but it was always pleasant when he smiled. "Momiji. It's been a while, ne?"

"Sou. How are you doing, Hari?" The Rabbit's face was shining eyes and smiling mouth, personality somewhat subdued but no less joyful.

"Ii, ii. Come in. Mayu-chan, would you mind making some tea, please?"

"Hai! It'll be just a moment," came "the trio's" former teacher's voice from the kitchen. Hatori smiled fondly in that direction and then focused his attention on Momiji as they sat on cushions on the tatami mats.

"I used to think the most important thing in life was to work hard," he said. "Because laziness is selfishness, and by not working, I cannot serve other people."

"There seems to be logic in that," said Momiji. "What is more important than serving other people?"

"Ah, but," said Hatori, leaning forward slightly. "If you work too hard, you are only focusing on yourself. If you focus all your energy into perfecting what you do, you are serving no one but yourself." He leaned back. Momiji frowned a bit, staring downward and into space.

"I'd never looked at it that way," he concluded finally. "However, it seems that if you don't focus on your work, you will not perfect your art. And if you don't accomplish what it is that you set out to do, you will never benefit those around you."

"Correct."

"Then how do you reconcile this incongruity?"

Hatori smiled. "By changing your mindset. Your focus must be on serving others first. Then all the energy you put into working hard will pay off into helping the people you love."

There is truth in this, thought Momiji. But it must be a lifelong process.

"I received the invitation to teach music at a junior high school," he said after a minute.

"Good." Hatori reached up to take the cup of tea Mayu offered him. "That is a good opportunity for you to put into practice the concept we've just been discussing."

Momiji sipped his own tea thoughtfully. "I'm not sure if I'm qualified to teach violin to younger students."

"Why not? You can do, right? You play the violin as if it's a part of your body. If you can do, you can teach."

"How?"

"It will come to you as you go along," said Mayu from the other room.

* * *

All right. Here goes.

Momiji took a deep breath and slid open the fusuma, entering a room which always filled with anxiety, as well as hope. "Otou-san."

His father looked up from the book he was reading. "Momiji. What's wrong?"

Momiji bowed his head as he kneeled on the floor. "Otou-san, I understand why you don't want me talking to Okaa-san and Momo. Demo..." He hesitated.

"Demo...the curse has been lifted? So you think there would be no harm in your seeing Momo?"

Momiji looked up with large, pleading eyes. "Onegaishimasu, Papa. Tohru-chan told me before she left that Momo wanted to see me. She said Momo wanted to know if I 'wouldn't be her big brother.' Papa, I've been watching Momo and Mama all this time; you know I have." His father nodded. "Onegaishimasu, Otou-san. I yearn to talk with at least Momo."

His father sighed heavily and stared into space so long that Momiji nervously wondered if he had offended him deeply. However, at last his father answered, "All right, Momiji. You know I love you, son. And I know how much meeting with Momo would make you happy. Let me do this; I'll let you and Momo practice the violin together once a week. Is that enough?"

Momiji's heart leapt up and began pounding furiously. His face was an enormous smile; he couldn't even try to dim it. "Arigato gozaimasu, Papa! That would be the most wonderful thing."

He began to get up. His father cleared his throat slightly. "Ah, Momiji..." He looked up, somewhat startled. "Hai?"

"Your friend...Tohru-chan? Is she well?"

Momiji lowered his eyes. "I...think so. He better be treating her right," he muttered under his breath.

"Momiji, please don't hurt yourself intentionally. There are things in life...things which you can't conclude so decisively, like the curse. One minute you had the spirit of the rabbit; the next you didn't. But the consequences, they will never go away. There are two ways you can approach that. You can continue brooding on that which is past, or little by little you can allow yourself to be healed. If you don't let the scars heal, they will remain painful forever."

"Hai, Papa. But right now they hurt so much."

"She wouldn't want that, would she?"

No, she wouldn't.

Moshi moshi: hello on the telephone

Ano: well...

Fusuma: sliding paper walls

Ikebana: traditional flower arrangements

Otou-san: father

Demo: but

Onegaishimasu: I beg of you

Arigato gozaimasu: thank you very much


	4. Chapter 4: Allegro

Chapter 4: Allegro

Momo was ecstatic the first time she and Momiji met, legitimately, face to face. She bounced around so happily that Momiji couldn't stop laughing. But they had practice to do; and so they did. Every week, they met together. And somewhere between their meetings and the lessons Momiji gave to the junior high students at Hiro and Kisa's old school...Momiji found he could teach.

It wasn't that it came naturally, or even easily. But he discovered that it was the individual challenges presented by each student that made it possible to teach. Like the adorable way Momo always tended to perch her first finger on top of the bow, rather than her pinky; or the boy who kept flatting the leading tone; or even the violinist next to him who made his bow strokes too long. Momiji found himself giving advice even at the orchestra, first, beginning with the second violin section, and then spreading out to the rest of the strings, the winds, the brass, even the percussion. The only one (conductor included) that he could never find fault with was Michiko. Somehow, her phrasing was always perfect, her tempo always steady, her dynamics blending with the rest of the orchestra.

He didn't really get a chance to talk with her again for several weeks after their first encounter. It humored him slightly that he hadn't even told her his name yet. But...why was he caring so much? That was the odd thing.

Two weeks before the orchestra's first concert since Momiji had joined, he was replacing his music in a folder after rehearsal when she appeared in front of him, like the first time. "Ano...shitsureishimashita, but I didn't get your name the first time we met."

Momiji looked up and grinned. A tad on the shy side? "It's Sohma Momiji. Hajimemashite, again!"

"Hai!" This time she smiled brightly. Momiji was rather knocked out of his socks by that smile. It was like an iris opening; slow at first, then blooming all at once. "So, Momiji-kun...is it okay if I call you Momiji-kun?"

"Only if I can call you Michiko-kun."

They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then both began laughing, though neither really knew why. "Anyway," Michiko continued, "I was wondering if you had a couple of minutes to go over a little of the last page of the score with me. My father won't be here to pick me up for another half hour, and I am having a hard time finding the melody among the orchestra."

"Ah, sou desu ka? Well, let's head over the piano, then."

Being the ultimate gentleman Momiji was (or had become, since he had "gotten so tall; like a prince"), he politely pulled up a chair next to the piano bench. The Oni inside Michiko was perturbed at his politeness and wanted to do something wickedly rash, just to get his reaction. However, she settled herself on said bench, scooted a little closer to the piano, picked up a pencil, indicated the passage she had mentioned.

"As you can see, and probably as you've already noticed during rehearsals, the five bars before the coda all seem to be attacking the melody at once. The trombones, the cellos, the oboes, the clarinets; but because they're all playing block chords and the rhythm is all the same, I can't actually tell what the melody is at all. Is it the triplet ostinato the flute is playing over the top? Or the highest oboe that's playing the root of the chords on top?"

Momiji moved a bit closer, focusing on the score. Yes, what she had said was correct. All the parts did seem to be attacking the melody. But...that felt wrong in relation to the timbre of the rest of the piece. There should be another, hidden melody that was actually carrying over.

He scanned the page for a couple of minutes. "Aha," he finally said. He pointed at the viola part. "Look. The viola is playing something completely different from the rest of the orchestra. It's playing a remnant of the melody at the very beginning of the piece..."

"...which was at that time played by the first violins. I see...well, we should tell that to Shi-san," (Momiji was humoured that she also called him "Shi-san" in private) "so that he can indicate the violas to play at a higher dynamic level there than the rest of the orchestra. Otherwise, the melody will be lost."

"Mmm..." said Momiji thoughtfully. "You might be right...but I wonder if the composer meant for that melody to be hidden and forgotten at this point? It has already been transformed, it has already had the spotlight. Whether or not you intentionally listen for it, you'll still hear it."

"That's an interesting way of thinking about it," said Michiko. "My mother said something of the same sort...before she died."

"Your mother died? I'm so sorry..."

"Iie, it was a long time ago. I was only ten at the time."

"Ah, I see. That must've been hard, anyway."

"Un. More on my father, really. You see, we'd just moved to France that summer..."

"France?"

"Hai. Mere was a particularly gifted cellist, but she gave it up when she and Pere got married. So she insisted that I become the sort of musician she wanted to be."

"There are a lot of parents like that. Why do they insist on placing their dreams on our lives?"

"Mmm..." Michiko's voice became quiet. "But, at the same time, I'm glad, you know? I feel like when I play, I can feel my mother playing with me. I'm glad she insisted that I become the best musician I could be, if only that makes our connection stronger. Anyway, because of that, she had me audition for the Paris Conservatory of Music, and when I was accepted, we moved to France. What a place that is! The people in France are so different from here. Easy-going, not caring about appearances; a little intimidating, to be honest. Actually, we didn't even return to Japan until a couple of years ago, when I finished high school here. I guess that's why my Japanese is so bad..."

Momiji laughed a little. He liked her slight, nasal accent. "But you're done with high school? I thought you were the same age as me?"

"Un. Actually, I graduated a year early, so I'm still only seventeen. I'm...not sure yet what I want to do with my life, so I decided to take the year off and decide on my future next year."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"I'd have to say I want to fulfill my mother's expectations."

"And become a concert pianist?"

"Mmm...I don't know..." Her face became a little red, and she looked away. "To tell the truth, I don't really like being center stage. I love playing, and I don't mind being in front of other people, but I don't like playing by myself. You know? It's not my thing...I like playing with other people."

"Do you want to play with me?"

"Ehh???"

"Right now!" He took out his violin and bow. "Let's do the violin cadenza on page eight, okay? You can read the orchestra part, right?"

"Un..." She was smiling, but at the same time she was blushing. "Wakata yo."

Their music was perfect. He didn't need to tell her when he was ending a phrase; she didn't need to count to understand how long he would hold a fermata. There was a sweet blend of keyboard and strings, and after they reached the end of the movement...they began another.

Neither was quite aware of when her father appeared over Momiji's shoulder, but when they did, Michiko startledly played an abrupt tone cluster, and Momiji almost dropped his bow.

"Etes-vous pres, mon fille?" he asked her in his low, melancholy voice. He gave Momiji a slightly suspicious, sliding sideways glance. Shimata, said Oni-Michiko.

"Oui, oui," she said, cheeks flaming, collecting her music flurriedly. "I'll see you later," she said distractedly to Momiji, who was already putting away his instrument.

"Ja," he said, and left.

* * *

The first concert was a little better than a failure and a little less than a success. Thanks to Momiji's suggestions, the bassoon was on pitch, and the second horn...had improved. There were other things, too. The strings played as one violin, rather than a clumsy conglomeration, and because the strings were together, the rest of the orchestra followed their lead. Michiko, who played backup on the piano, filling in the notes that would have been played by the bass bassoon, the vibraphone, the English horn, etc., somehow managed to bring out a tone that was not the simple plunk of hammers on strings. Shi-san, for once in a tuxedo, conducted in such a way that Momiji wondered if he had had a successful background before coming down to the level of this simple community orchestra.

Altogether, it was an unimpressive, albeit improved, concert. But Momiji had enjoyed it, nonetheless. He'd been unable to perform with a group like this before, back when the curse and Akito had chained him to the confines of the main house. Somehow, the unimpressed applause of the scanty audience was as good to his ears as if they had actually enjoyed it, and the music stand was less lopsided than usual.

Momo had been unable to attend, unfortunately; but several of Momiji's new students came and crowded around him at the reception afterwards.

"Sohma-sensei, you were brilliant!"

"That violin passage was beautiful!"

One of his two female students, Itari, tugged on his sleeve. "Ano...can you teach me to play like that, Sohma-sensei?"

He laughed slightly. "No matter how much I teach, if you don't practice, you won't get better!" he said, putting a hand on her head. She blushed and looked away. His four male students noticed her reaction and started to snicker.

She got redder, this time from anger. "What are you laughing at?" Momiji had to laugh as she became a little ball of fury flying at them with well-placed fists.

He heard soft laughter from behind him and turned around. Michiko was standing there; her father was engaging Shi-san in an apparently animated conversation. "Momiji-kun, are these students of yours?"

"Hai."

"You must be a good teacher. I notice you working with the other strings in your section. Do you like it?"

"Ano..." Momiji hadn't really thought about that. He had been focusing so much on teaching well that he hadn't considered what she now made him realize; he liked teaching music. "Yes, but I think I like performing better."

"You performed well tonight, too. I guess I should expect nothing but excellence from you now, though."

"Ah...no, you're giving me too much credit..."

"No, really, you are a very good player. I can see you work hard at it."

He did, really, but it was more than that. All of the Juunishi had particular traits that they were naturally good at; academics, sports, medicine, human relations; his was music. He couldn't escape being good at it if he tried. Even when he had told Tohru-chan that he had been slacking off after he'd stopped seeing his teacher...

He shook his head and brought himself back to focus on Michiko. "Momiji-kun, are you all right?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Iie. Not a problem! Ano...well, that is..."

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering..." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Are you doing anything tomorrow? It's a Sunday, so I was wondering if you would like to hang out."

He was a bit surprised. "Sure," he said, before really thinking. "Was there anywhere you wanted to go?"

"Ano, there is a museum I've been wanting to visit. It's a Baroque instrument museum. We'd have to take a train to get there, but..."

"Un. That sounds interesting. Shall I meet you at the train station at ten o'clock, then?"

Her face lit up. "Hai! I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Hai. Ja matta nee."

Oni: a demon

Un: yup

Wakata yo: I understand

Shimata: darn

Ja matta nee: see you later


	5. Chapter 5: Con Mosso

Chapter 5: Con mosso

Perhaps he was a little overeager. At any rate, he woke at 5 am and couldn't get back to sleep, so he got up.

It was still very dark out. But a warm cup of tea helped; as he sipped it, thoughtfully, he pulled out an old picture from nearly two years ago from his drawer. It was from the trip they had taken--at the shore, Yuki, Haru and Kyou were standing behind, Tohru and himself in front of them. Shigure had taken the photo, which Kyou had confiscated when he realized the former intended it as a memorandum of "the summer of Tohru-chan's new bathing suit". Momiji had asked Kyou for a copy, but Kyou had just given the photo to him instead.

That was a summer, indeed. Constantly being with Tohru, except for the occasions on which Akito demanded that all of the Juunishi come to visit him. Holding her hand; eating with her; rising up early in the morning to catch stag beetles with her...all these were imprinted in his memory. But no less the night that Akito had injured her...

Of course, at the time Momiji hadn't been able to do anything about it. He still felt shame at the fact that he couldn't push Akito away...something, anything. It was hard enough on the spirit of the rabbit to block Akito's path when he had first demanded to see Tohru. And when he had come back to the scene, having gotten Hari and Shigure to come with him, she was already...

But Tohru didn't blame him. She had no harsh words for him; she only cared that he had been hurt too. Her selflessness still burned in his memory. The "foolish traveler" was the one everyone ended up loving in the end, afterall.

And she had held him. Momiji was quite sure that even now she didn't know what effect she had on him when she hugged him, and then willingly held him to her when he changed into a rabbit. Of course, even before he had had his growth spurt and been suddenly recognized as the young man he really was, he felt a rather smug satisfaction that he was quite possibly the only one she held like that. The funny thing was, it wasn't like she was even holding him as a rabbit, although she cupped him to her shoulder as one would a real rabbit; but more than that, she was holding him as something dear. That warm embrace, feeling her pulse in the crook of her neck, feeling her soft, but capable hands on his back...

He took a deep sigh. A person he couldn't forget; feelings he couldn't deny. Even now, everything in him ached to be with her, but it was impossible. Anyway, she was meant to be with Kyou-kun; he'd known that from the beginning. If he hadn't been absolutely sure, he wouldn't have deferred to Kyou in the first place.

Rabbit stationary, pen. A letter...to her.

His alarm clock began to play Vivaldi. He looked up from his writing, startled. It was 6:30 am. The sun was beginning to cast lone rays across his room. In front of him, next to his forgotten tea, were pages and pages. They were filled with...hope, with...joy, with...love. And he knew he couldn't send it. Not yet? Not ever?

* * *

He was early to the train station, but she was already there. Blue-ish black hair pulled back into a low ponytail; eyes cast down upon a page of music.

He meant to shout out, "Michiko-kun!" with a wide smile and happy demeanor, but he couldn't yet. Just wanted to look, to notice the way the wind touched a couple of stray locks of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. To notice the way her finger followed the line of music she was reading, while her left hand absently played the notes on a non-existent keyboard. Attractive? Yes. He wasn't the type to ignore beauty, even if his attention was focused elsewhere.

He waited almost until the train pulled in to walk up, touch her shoulder, and watch her glance up, startled. "Ah, already? Ohayo gozaimasu, Momiji-kun!"

"Ohayo," he responded with a smile. "We should hurry."

"Hai," and they stepped onto the train.

It was neither a quick train ride nor a slow one, but the two of them were talking so constantly--about music, friendship, pickles and rabbits, music--that the time didn't matter. And then there was the museum. Fairly moderate sized, with a definite post-modern bent on the architecture. A place that carried an air of expectation, slightly ominous, even. Momiji, being of course the ultimate gentleman, paid for both of them (not noticing the blush that came over Michiko's cheeks as he did so), and turned to her with a smile as they walked inside.

It was here at the awning entrance that they had their first quarrel.

It started off innocently enough. Momiji simply asked, "Where would you like to go first?"

Michiko began speaking even before he'd finished the sentence. "I want to go visit the harpsichord exhibit."

"Ah...sou desu ka...ano, wouldn't you prefer to go see the viol section first?"

"Iie. There's a special exhibit on a famous Ruckers model that I'm dying to see."

Momiji snorted. Michiko looked up, green eyes the shade of peridot aflame. "What? Is there something wrong with that? Seriously, what's so important about the viol section, anyway?"

"Because! The viol family was around long before keyboards. Western musical literature is centered around the development of the string family."

"Yeah right! Bach is definitely the forerunner of everything that has become modern music. And what did he focus on? The harpsichord, of course!" Oni-Michiko desperately wanted to smack some sense into him.

"Yeah, what about Vivaldi? What about Paganini? Are you going to say that they're 'less than' Bach and Chopin just because they're focused on the strings?"

"No! But the keyboard is the only instrument family that is able to harmonize with itself. Why do you think there are so many piano solos written? It's obvious that the piano is the most popular instrument for the last four hundred years!"

"So? The violin still gets all the attention. C'mon, we both know who the "primadonna" of the orchestra is..."

"The oboe," they answered together. The looked at each and started laughing, the tension broken as they both got it. Oni-Michiko scowled and subsided. I should have won that fight, Oni-Michiko said inside Michiko's head.

"So, wanna hear a joke?" Michiko asked.

"Sure."

"Um...let's see, how does it go? Oh, yeah. What's the definition of a minor second?"

"It's the semitone between two notes that..."

"Momiji-kun, it's a joke!"

"Oh, yeah, gomen. 'Kay, what's the definition of a minor second?"

"Two oboes playing a unison!"

They both started laughing, him because he hadn't heard the joke before, her because his first reaction was to look confused, and then comprehension dawning on his features.

They abused oboes for awhile, and ended up visiting the bugle section first, afterall.

When they visited the viol section, Momiji paused suddenly in front of a certain exhibit and caught his breath. "On loan from the Metropolitan Museum of Art: the Nicolo Amati violin, made in 1669." He'd never seen anything like it. It was a creamy maple color, brownish red, with an intricate diamond pattern running up the fingerboard. He had almost started to drool before Michiko pulled him away.

* * *

It was late afternoon when they stepped out of the building, laughing and chatting nonstop. Both of them were hungry and hot at this point, so Momiji suggested the healthiest solution he could think of.

"Hey, wanna get some ice cream?"

Michiko gave him her rose-bloom smile and said, "Sure!"

He paid for both his double-chocolate banana parfait and her pickle-flavored ice ("Seriously?" "Nothin' better!"), and they sat on a bench outside for a while afterwards, eating. For a moment, over ice-cream and laughter, he almost forgot it wasn't Tohru next to him and reached for her hand when they finished and stood up. Then he stopped, reality coming back with the force of a wrecking ball.

She noticed him reaching, but didn't notice the shadow afterwards, and eagerly took his hand. He looked down, startled, as if she had started it. But he didn't try to pull away, until they were at the train station. He made a show of attempting to open the door, then being "startled" when it opened of its own accord, and basically tried to stay upbeat as before. She was too happy to notice the difference.

The train had stopped a couple of stations away from their stop, when she dropped the pamphlet on virginals and spinets she had picked up at the museum. She leaned down to pick it up, but by the time she stood back up, the train was taking off again. Caught off-guard by the centrifugal force, she tumbled back with a little cry. Straight into the arms of Momiji, who was holding onto the handle above.

It was no small collision. Somehow, they remained vertical, but it was a tad awkward, seeing as her arms somehow ended up around his neck, her face snuggled up into his shoulder, his free arm hugging her tight to him.

Time slowed down. Their breathing and pulses escalated. After the initial shock of the hug (at which time Momiji had braced himself for the transformation he usually expected, only to remember afterwards that there was no longer any curse to worry about), he became aware of the softness of skin and hair pressed to his face. She became aware of the strength in that slight body.

And suddenly, something clicked in Momiji's mind: This is wrong.

He disengaged her clinging arms with shaking hands, held her by the shoulders, out away from his body. "Ano...sumimasen...gomen nasai, I'm so sorry..."

Her eyes searched his flaming face, downcast brown eyes, ruffled sunshine hair. Did I do something wrong?

No, she realized, it's only me who enjoyed that. Is there...someone else?

It was a quiet walk back to her house.

Oyaho gozaimasu: good morning

Gomen nasai: sorry

Sumimasen: sorry


	6. Chapter 6: Intermezzo

Chapter 6: Intermezzo

Summer, again.

And Kyou, Yuki, and...Tohru...would all be back this evening!

Momiji couldn't contain himself. He laughed all day long, got in everyone's way, consumed enough ice cream to put a normal person on a sugar high for a week.

Not much had happened between the concert and summer break. Since the visit to the museum, Momiji hadn't seen Michiko, since the community orchestra was not meeting again until after the break. At school, he had become closer friends with Jakob and Freia. Freia was right; Jakob was a wonderful person to get to know, once he warmed up to the people and culture around him. And so intelligent! Not even Momiji could match his scores in class. And Freia was right about something else: Momiji had finally learned to pronounce her name correctly.

Despite Haru's constant teasing, Momiji found himself spending a lot of time with that freckled face and curly brown hair. She reminded him of Tohru in some ways, and that was something that he needed right now. Freia was, to put it bluntly, average. Her scores were average; she was athletically average; even her height and weight were pretty much...average. Except for friendship and people skills. Momiji wasn't the only one who thought that way. Within a month, she had easily made friends with all the girls in the class, and was the subject of more than one crushes on behalf of the guys.

But...then there was Kisa. Much like at her junior high school, she was suffering from what Haru correctly diagnosed as jealousy from the other girls. True, all the boys liked her (but teased her in that stupid way young boys will when they like a girl and therefore confuses the girl entirely as to whether or not they hate her or not), but this just made all the girls dislike her even more. Even Haru's narrowed eyes over her shoulder only managed to hush the girls for a few minutes, before they started up again. He recalled that one day she had run up to him, crying. He had put his arms around her and asked what was the matter. Apparently, she had been in the restroom when a couple of those girls had come in, saying useless, cruel things like, "Sohma-san's only interest is to get boys to notice her. You can tell the way she flaunts herself and looks at them." It had been awhile before Momiji had calmed her down with soothing words and a rabbit-shaped lollipop.

Where was Hiro in all this? Dealing with his own problems. The teachers, though impressed with his quick wit and smart answers, were less impressed with his attitude, and likewise the other kids in the class didn't want to have anything to do with "the kid who could never be wrong." Although he wouldn't talk about it, Momiji and Haru could both tell that he was smarting under biting comments. But if they tried to intervene, he'd remind them of the problems in their own lives. Particularly about how Momiji "just couldn't get over her." After one such verbal battle, Haru said aside to Momiji, "Just leave him be. He'll figure it out eventually."

But...but...but...Tohru was coming back today! He couldn't wait to see her, to ask about how she'd been doing, how Kyou was treating her, to tell her about the community orchestra...

If he could get the chance. Grrr...Kyou would be hogging her all to himself again, no doubt.

Only two more hours...He danced around in his room, one nervous ball of energy with itchy fingers that couldn't so much as play the violin. He finally decided to go for a walk outdoors while he had the chance.

Past Papa's building, where Tohru used to work. Past the main Sohma building, a place of fear and trepidation for all the members of the Zodiac. Past the...ah, there was Momo! And Mama! How cute they both looked together. They didn't notice him watching them catching dragonflies in the park which was nearby their house. He smiled as he watched Momo energetically wave around the net, and Mama gently showing her how to do it slower, so that she wouldn't scare away the insects.

He stayed there for a little while before continuing. May as well walk all the way to Shigure's old house, where they had decided to convene for this special meeting. Haru and Rin would be coming, of course Kisa and Hiro would be there, Hari and Mayu, Ayame and Mine, Rit-chan-san and Mit-chan-san, Kazuma-sensei and Saki, Kureno and Arisa, Kagura and her "friend" from college, Yuki's girlfriend Machi...ah, it seemed like everyone already had someone! But not him. He had to wait.

For now, he would wait on the steps of the old house (having opened the house up first), and watch for her to come. But the sun was so warm...ah...surely it wouldn't hurt to lean back and close his eyes for a couple of minutes.

* * *

"Momiji-kun! Momiji-kun!"

Momiji woke up from a beautiful dream about Tohru, punching Kyou in the face, all that, and for a minute didn't connect that it was actually her voice, not just the dream. He cracked open his eyes and was quickly assaulted by the long, horizontal rays of sun that were falling down on the horizon. "Itai...ah, Tohru-kun!!!"

He sat up quickly, eyes already wide open and shining upon the worried-looking young woman kneeling in front of him. Her face quickly turned to a huge smile as she tackled him in a reminiscent hug. Except that...this time he didn't turn into a rabbit. For the first time, he was able to actually hold her for more than a second, enjoy her warmth and everything else about her that he had always loved. He closed his eyes for a minute, like he had in the sun, except that this was much more fun.

"Oi, hands off, Rabbit." He opened his eyes again as Tohru pulled away, still smiling, and walked back over to Kyou. The Cat put his arms around her waist and hugged her to him from behind. Momiji felt a tinge of guilt and also envy.

"Really, Momiji, what are you doing like this?" Yuki asked, coming up from behind the two of them, Machi in tow. She merely nodded her head in Momiji's direction and followed Yuki, who was carrying their bags, into the house.

"Anyway, Tohru-kun! I'm so glad you're here! How are you? It's been ages!"

Chatting and laughing, the five of them walked inside. The rest of the company were not far behind, arriving in small intervals of time apart. Soon the house was so crowded that there was barely any room to sit, and so noisy that Yuki and Kyou were both to be seen leaning against the wall, rubbing their temples.

There were several announcements that evening. A baby on the way: Ayame and Mine. Three engagements: Ritsu and Mit-chan, Kureno and Arisa, and Kazuma and Saki.

And a fourth had yet to be announced. Everyone started moving outdoors, as the house had gotten quite warm. Fireflies were dancing over the stream outside. Momiji looked over at Kyou, who had been eying Tohru as she laughed and talked enthusiastically with Arisa and Saki. Their eyes met; Kyou nodded. Momiji walked into the kitchen, where Tohru was getting a glass of water for Kisa. "Hey, Tohru-kun..."

She turned around and smiled. "Ah, Momiji-kun! I'm so sorry, I've been talking with everyone, it's so good to see everyone...ah, ano, did you need something?" Momiji took the glass of water from her and grabbed her hand. "Let's go talk together, okay?"

"Okay!" she said, and he led her outdoors, handing off the glass of water to Kisa as he did so. As they went outdoors, Hiro turned to Kisa. "Does he know yet?" "No, I don't think so," Kisa replied.

They sat down together on the grass outdoors. He had purposely tried to get out of the sight of everyone else so that he could have a decent conversation with her without being interrupted. As she smoothed down her skirt, he noticed something bright winking at him from her left hand.

He caught his breath, grasped at the hand. "Tohru, are you really...?"

She blushed, looking down, but completely unable to hide the enormous smile that was on her face. "Yes, he gave it to me a few days ago. To spend the rest of my life with Kyou-kun...it seems too happy, like a dream!"

Momiji looked down, blinking away stinging tears. Although he already knew, this symbol suddenly made it seem all the more real. But he looked up, smiling. Today was Tohru's day. He wouldn't ruin it for her with his feelings.

"Ah, Tohru, Tohru! I wanted to tell you about something. I've been working really hard at my violin. Hopefully I'll be able to have a concert someday soon. And I'll play 'Wish Upon a Star' for you, too!"

"That would be wonderful!" she replied. "I can't wait!"

"Ah, but right now, I'm in a community orchestra. It's not perfect, but, but, I like it a lot! And! I'm teaching some students!"

"That's great!"

Oh, I've been hogging the conversation, he thought. "How about you? What are you doing?" he asked her.

"Mm...how should I put it? Right now, even though I feel like I should be doing more, Kyou-kun has insisted that he work for the both of us. So, I've been preparing, I guess. Preparing to be the best wife possible."

"There's no way you couldn't be the best wife possible, Tohru."

"Ah, iie, iie! Iie, I'm sure it's not like that! Demo...life is very kind right now. I think that Okaa-san would be very happy to see how hard Kyou-kun tries to please me. And I've been learning a lot. It seems I have a long way to go. I will do my best!" she concluded happily, laughing.

He smiled back at her. "Ah, there's also..."

He stopped short. It seemed like he'd been about to tell her about Michiko, for some reason. He still felt a little embarrassed, thinking about about the train trip. Somehow, he wanted to ask Tohru for advise. But he couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

"Momiji-kun? Is something wrong?"

"Iie! Not at all! Please don't worry about me. I'm so happy for you, Tohru-kun, I really am. Will you invite me to your wedding?"

"Of course!" she said.

"Only if this midget behaves himself," came Kyou's voice from behind.

"Ah, Kyou, you're such a meanie!" Momiji whined.

* * *

They left a couple of days after Hatori and Mayu's wedding. That was a beautiful day, even if Mayu's dress failed to make her look more feminine, and the heat made the outdoor wedding somewhat unbearable in the suit he wore in honor of the occasion. And even though, despite what Tohru thought, he knew he'd never hold her hand again.

He wasn't ready to see her go, but at the same time he felt a piece of his soul lifted as he waved good-bye to her. Hiro was right. He needed to move on. Tohru's happiness was more important than his obsession.

Itai: ow


	7. Chapter 7: Ardito

Chapter 7: Ardito

School started again, as well as the community orchestra, changing their meetings to Thursday afternoons. Momiji was promoted to the first violins immediately, amid much praise from Shi-san. At first, he and Michiko avoided each other, while Oni-Michiko smirked at the silent treatment she was giving him. They exchanged polite hellos and whatnot but not making eye contact. He felt even worse. He'd been really cruel. But he hadn't thought...true, maybe she did have feelings for him? But as for him...

Freia was ecstatic to see him again at school. They stayed after school for a half hour chatting on the first day back. Jakob and Haru, who seemed to have hit it off, were also talking away, as enthusiastically as either of them got. As Momiji waved "ja matta ne" to Freia and turned to go, he felt a hand on his arm and turned around.

It was a girl from a different class, but the same year, whom he recognized vaguely by her rather startling azure eyes and dark blond hair. "Momiji-kuuuun," she said. "How are you? I haven't seen you much recently."

"Ah, konichiha, Hamadachi-san," he said, digging back in the depths of his mind for an orientation introduction ages ago. She frowned at him.

"It's not Hamadachi-san, Momiji-kuuun. It's Reiko, remember? You and I ate lunch together at the end of last year, during the cultural festival."

"Ah, right, right," he said, trying desperately to think of why this girl evidently thought they were on first name terms.

"Anyway, are you doing anything this afternoon? Do you want to go watch a movie together or something?"

"Um..." He'd heard words like this before, right? Except last time he'd been much more willing to comply. "Well, you see, I have a rehearsal tonight..."

"Like a play? How cool! I love acting. It's so cool, being up on stage, don't you think? What kind of part are you playing?"

"No, not theater, sorry. Actually, I'm in an orchestra."

"Ahhhh...hhh." She looked a little less enthused, but got her energy back immediately. "What do you play? The trumpet?"

He tried hard to keep the sigh inside. His hands were definitely NOT trumpet hands. Maybe french horn hands. Maybe. But definitely violin hands. Yes.

"Anyway, can I come? I'd love to watch a rehearsal."

Unable to shake off his rather determined guest, he ended up bringing her along.

* * *

Michiko noticed that girl coming in with Momiji right away, and she narrowed her eyes. Is that her? Somehow, she didn't see her as his type. Too floofy. Definitely too floofy. Preppy clothes that she'd probably bought at the mall. Slip-shod in flimsy summer shoes. Oni-Michiko wanted a heavy wooden bat with which to brain said floofy young vixen.

She tried to ignore both of them. Momiji, glancing up in her direction helplessly, as if to enlist her aid, met only the back of her head. He sighed again, pulled up a chair for Reiko, and began tuning his strings.

Reiko was like the thing that wouldn't shut up. Even the patience of Momiji was tried. What does that do? Who is that old guy up there? Really? He leads this group? He doesn't look like he's any good...Oh, look! A drum! I've always wanted to play one of those...No, Reiko-san, please stay put_._ Why all the formality? C'mon, you're acting like we aren't even friends...

The first violinist next to Momiji gave a forced laugh. "Well, if the percussion section needs a chatterbox, we know where to find one..." If he'd been any more ironic, he would have rusted.

Shi-san stepped up on the make-shift conductor's stand and cleared his throat. "For the upcoming concert at the beginning of this fall, we will be playing Brahms Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, in D major Op, 77. It's not an easy piece, so I expect you all to practice diligently outside of rehearsal." He looked keenly over in Momiji's direction. He was somewhat startled. Had he not been practicing enough?

The first chair violinist, a man in his 50's with a beautiful violin named Shiro-san, played the solo violin part, sightreading the passage well, but not as well as he could have, Momiji thought. Ah, well, it will be awhile before I get any recognition. Meanwhile, he was trying to stay ahead of the music while trying to tune out the over-enthusiastic Reiko constantly peering over his shoulder and making various comments. It felt like the end of the rehearsal would never come to an end.

When it did, Momiji again looked up pleadingly in Michiko's direction, but she was talking with one of the cellists. An...attractive cellist, in his 20's. Momiji was a little uncertain what he thought about that.

Reiko noticed his eyes and followed them to the piano. "Really," she said, "that pianist is no good. You can totally tell that she's got no self confidence at all."

"Nani?" Michiko was like a part of her instrument. Reiko had no idea what she was talking about.

"And," she continued. "She's so plain, like a piece of painted cardboard. Gosh, does she ever wear makeup? She should really try to make herself more attractive."

Momiji's patience finally snapped. "You know what?" he asked. "You could do with a little less makeup. Girls don't get that guys don't want to see what they wish they looked like, but what they do look like. And as for Michiko, she's a terrific pianist. If you don't think she's any good, then that means you don't know how to listen to music."

Reiko huffed and crossed her arms, drawing her eyebrows together. "You've got to be joking. You know, I used to think you were a cool guy. But you're just a geek, like the rest of these guys!" She stalked out, leaving a shocked Momiji behind. He watched the door close behind her, and then let out a huge sigh. The rest of the first violinists behind him, watching, suddenly started chuckling. He turned around, and then started laughing himself.

Michiko looked up from the piano, suddenly not interested in the romantic offerings of the cellist who was by now hogging the piano bench. Her first instincts had been right, afterall. That girl was definitely not the one. But now, as she viewed the blond violinist, he looked different. Lighter, somehow. And a little cockier, as he strode up to the piano, completely ignoring the cellist. "Michiko-kun, listen, I was wondering if you had some free time this week."

"Oh," she said, turning bright red and dropping sheets of music haphazardly onto the floor. "Actually, sumimasen, Momiji-kun, I'm going to Hokkaido with Pere this week. We're going to be out of town all week long." She sounded genuinely disappointed, so Momiji, undaunted, said, "Well, what about next week?" He stooped and began collecting her music like an ultimate gentleman, still fixing his gaze on her face, waiting for her answer.

She nodded immediately, eyes shining like beams through a green stained-glass window. "That would be great! What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing yet. Why don't I give you a call when you return and we can decide then?"

She scribbled down her number on an old scrap of staff paper, and handed it to him, beaming madly. He grinned at her, turned and walked back down to put away his instrument.

The cellist did not get a number.

Konnichiha: good afternoon

Nani?: what?


	8. Chapter 8: Mediatamente

Chapter 8: Mediatamente

Reiko continued to huff whenever she saw Momiji in the hallways thereafter. He merely stuck his tongue out at her when her back was turned. Freia, having noticed both, laughed when she and Momiji met up after school the following day.

"I noticed her bugging you yesterday. Something tells me the best laid plans o' mice an' men gang aft aglay?"

"Nani?" Momiji wasn't used to the bits of Western quips she was fond of using.

"In other words, I think she wanted a date, but she got a bit more than she wanted."

"Ha! Something like that. Anyway, that's an unpleasant subject. I don't like unpleasant subjects."

"I'd noticed," Freia answered. "That's one of the things I like about you."

He laughed and patted her on the shoulder. "You're the same way, you know that?"

"Ah, Sohma-san, your cousin and I have been talking," Jakob came up from behind. "Would you be interested in having tea sometime? I'm still getting used to Japanese tea, but I'd like to know more about it."

Inside, Momiji was trying to sort out facts. Was he talking about a tea ceremony? No, that seemed probably a little too out of the cultural league for Jakob. What exactly is "having tea", anyway? Isn't it more of a regular thing? Somewhere, he recalled reading that in England people eat a light meal with tea around four o'clock, maybe that's what he's talking about...

Freia laughed, already seeing the little battle that was fighting out inside Momiji's brain. "He means like a snack with tea, Momiji-kun," she said.

"Ah, sou desu ka? Well, that sounds like fun. What does Haru think?"

Haru, who had been guarding Kisa, raised a hand as a "yes" signal. "Well, then! That sounds great. Do you want to try for this Sunday?"

"Yeah! That's perfect. Why don't we meet here, at the school, and then we can choose where to go?"

"'Kay!" He was looking forward to it. But not as much as to next week.

* * *

The four of them met at the school, as planned, around three. They fought for awhile about where to go and finally ended up at a small coffee house not far away. A place that was cozy, with a warm interior and soft colors. Freia ordered coffee and a muffin, Jakob ordered coffee and a doughnut, Momiji ordered coffee with the sweetest thing he could find, and Haru ordered tea, not neglecting to make snide comments to the rest about exactly what direction their "tea" was taking. And then they were all chatting together, in the usual pairing, until more time had passed than they had thought, and suddenly they found the conversation silent in one of those comfortable moments where you don't really need or want to say more, just soaking in bright liquid and the enjoyable faces of each other.

After a little while, Freia spoke up. "Jakob just got accepted to a university back home."

"Ah, sou desu ka? Congratulations, Jakob-kun! What are you going to be majoring in?"

"I decided that a long time ago," Jakob said, glancing at Haru. "I'm going to be taking a pre-med course, specializing in cancer treatment."

"Ah, why is that?"

There was a small period of quietness, during which Momiji managed to pick up that everyone in the room but himself knew the reason why. Finally, Jakob answered softly, "It's because of my father. He...passed away from leukemia three years ago. I noticed how much suffering he and the other patients in his ward went through." He clenched his fist on the table, frowning down. "Whatever I can to to give aid to people suffering like that, I want to take the strongest measures to do so. That's why I've dedicated my life to research and that's why I need to continue to do the best possible in all my studies."

It all made sense to Momiji, and he looked at Jakob with a new light. What selflessness and hard work. What Hatori had said to him earlier came back, and he saw it personified in a new measure.

It also clarified the difference between Jakob and Freia. Jakob wanted to rid the world of pain; Freia was more about helping the people in pain to overcome it. Both were legitimate ways.

Freia suddenly smiled, bright dimples flashing in each cheek. "You know what they say, anyway," she said. "If you see a bridge in the road, take it!" Everyone began looking at her oddly so immediately she became flustered. "Ah, that is…well…"

"I believe it's a 'fork' in the road," said Momiji, smiling slightly.

"Oh, sou desu ka? Is there a difference? Can't you take the bridge, too?"

Laughter. The moment was golden. He'd think back on it often.

* * *

He said goodbye to Haru and Jakob and Freia ("Careful on the way home, and watch out for the big bad wolf!" "Huh?"), and began walking back to his apartment. He hadn't gotten more than halfway there when he ran into the last person he expected to see: Shi-san.

"Batsushi-san!" he said, picking himself up and helping the older man up on his feet (you thought I was kidding when I said they ran into each other, didn't you?). "Are you all right, sir?"

"Hai, hai...Sohma, what are you doing around here at this time of day?"

Momiji hadn't realized that it was about nine o'clock in the evening already. "I was with some friends," he said. "And you?"

"Mmm. Sohma, how old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"We can fudge that. C'mon, boy, give this old man some company for a few hours, ne?"

"Ano...sure..." Momiji began following Shi-san, mouth somewhat agape, still watching him. Until they entered a building with low lights, that smelled strongly of alcohol and cigars.

Momiji almost immediately backed out, but Shi-san had got his elbow in a vice-like grip. "Sir?" He found himself being pulled over to the bar and somewhat roughly forced onto a stool. "Two Scotch whiskeys, kudasai," Shi-san told the barmaid. She cocked an eyebrow in Momiji's direction. "S'okay, he's with me," he told her. Momiji decided to see it through. What in the world was he thinking? This place made him feel extraordinarily uncomfortable; he just wanted to flee. But Shi-san...for whatever reason, he needed someone right now.

A minute later the glasses were laid in front of them, and Shi-san took a large gulp right away. He grimaced afterwards, slammed the glass back down on the scratched bar counter, and turned to Momiji with a strange look. "That'll do it," he said. "Drink up, boy, drink up. You'll never grow up if you keep drinking milk."

He took a cautious sip, sputtering slightly. The stuff was terrible. Why in the world did people drink this stuff? He caught a look in Shi-san's eye, and took another sip.

"That's right, that's right. Just work your way through it. Another, kudasai," he said to the barmaid.

"You must be thinkin', right, what in the world has gotten into this old man?" he said after the second Scotch. Momiji immediately denied it, but Shi-san grinned knowingly. "No, no, you'd be right. See, boy, twelve years ago today my beautiful wife left this world. See, this is her here." He pulled out a small, worn-out picture from his wallet and handed it to Momiji. He peered at it carefully. She was in her late thirties, still slender, with the beauty of age on her face. "She is beautiful," he said honestly.

"Was. Nothin' more than ashes along the shores of Kyushu now." He gave a hollow laugh. "Another, kudasai," to the barmaid, who gave him a wary look. Momiji obligingly took another sip of the disgusting amber-colored liquid in his glass. Truth to tell, every sip made it somewhat more bearable. "Anyway, boy, don't you be thinkin' that you've known what love is. I know you young people; you find someone and you kiss that someone, or you don't, and you think about them every minute, and you think that's love. Nah, you don't know what love is until you've been married fifteen years and you've fought over everything there is to be fought over and you've made love in eight positions and you've been poor, lost, and sick. Then you really know you love her." Shi-san's voice was getting steadily more slurred. Momiji had finished the first glass, and Shi-san had already been through three. He waved down the barmaid for two more. That admirable woman leaned over to Momiji when Shi-san wasn't looking and whispered, "Why don't I mix you something a little less strong?"

"That would be great," he answered back. She winked at him and Momiji turned back to Shi-san. "See, boy, nothin' in this worl' was th' same after Midoriko lef' my side. Food tasted like shi', friends were unbearable to be aroun', even music was nothin' more than loud bangin' noise. An' they tell you it'll be okay. See, I used to be a big-time conductor over in Germany." Momiji's eyes widened in surprise. Then Shi-san had been over there when he was a small kid. "The orchestras I conducted, weren't nothin' like the junk I hafta deal with now. Those musicians always showed up on time, always knew their music, never missed a beat. But I'll tell you somethin' right now, boy. When you been roun' that stuff for awhile, you star' t' appreciate the low-class musicians. Ain't nothin' like people who still love wha' they're doin'. Them professional musicians, after awhile they don' even know wha' they're doin' anymore. Don' know how I would've continued t' live after Midoriko left me, if I hadn'a quit those big-time orchestras and settled for somethin' more low key, y'know?"

He finished yet another, and Momiji began in on the Bailey's Sunset the barmaid had brought him. That one wasn't so bad. It was very sweet, and multiflavored. Shi-san ordered yet another Scotch. Momiji didn't like to think about the shape he'd be in when he left, not to mention the bill. He himself was starting to feel a bit lightheaded. Shi-san continued. "But you, boy, you're differen', I think. You're not gonna be either th' amateur or th' bore' profess'nal. You gotta somethin' special. You gonna go fa'. Tha' one, too, she gonna go fa'. Mmm, yeah, she's good, gonna be good."

"She?"

"Y'know. The pi'nist. Miss Whas-her-name."

"Michiko-kun?"

"Yeah, tha's th' one. Pretty, ain't she?"

Momiji colored a little bit. "Yeah, I guess so."

Shi-san gave him a knowing look. "Yeah, righ', I see how you two look a' 'chother. You look a' her when you thin' she's na lookin', and then she look back when you're na lookin'. Getter 'fore it's too late, boy. A woman only come once i' a lifetime, an' you snap 'er up 'fore anyone else does."

"Ano..." Momiji was not at all comfortable with where the conversation was proceeding. Fortunately, Shi-san turned the (admittedly much less intelligible) conversation back to memoirs of his wife and Europe.

Two hours later, the two of them emerged. Neither was completely steady on their feet, but somewhere around the busily buzzing bees in his head, Momiji managed to hail a cab for Shi-san, and made his way home.


	9. Chapter 9: Eroica

Chapter 9: Eroica

Itaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...

That was the first thing that went through Momiji's head the next morning as he lifted his head to his alarm clock and was met by a fist-full of angry sunlight in his eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm up," he mumbled to the sun and to Scarlatti, and rolled out of bed.

His legs didn't want to reach the ground first, and so somewhere between his left elbow and his head, he found the floor and wobbled up. Start with the knees, okay, got that, now the legs...

Once he was up and dressed, Momiji decided then and there that he would never, ever go drinking again. Ever. At least, not without a little food first. Yes. That would probably be better. Well. School.

It seemed like the day was destined for disaster. The moment he walked toward his classroom, he could tell by the gathering students, broken glass, and chairs thrown out a window, that Someone had gone black. Specifically Haru.

Kuso.

He hurried towards the classroom, flung open the door, and put himself between the source of the disruption and the nearest receiving end of violence, which seemed to be a first year girl with wide eyes. "Haru...yamete kudasai!"

Whatever object was flying through the air suddenly hit Momiji squarely in the stomach, and he bent over double, wheezing. He continued to block said young lady with his body, and was struck with a book in the head for his efforts. "Haru! You need to stop!" He dashed forward in the moment of hesitation and caught Haru by both wrists. Haru was strong, but Momiji was a fair match for him by now, and as the Ox wrestled with the Rabbit, trying to get free, it seemed the latter had got the upper hand, after all.

"Haru! Please just tell me what's going on!"

Haru's eyes were black, filled with anger, and as he looked up at his cousin, they seemed to be shooting sparks at him. "That kuso person," pointing toward the girl Momiji had been defending earlier, "said something to Kisa to make her cry. I'll be damned if I'll let her get away with it!"

Momiji continued to check Haru's movement and keep him from creating further damage. "You can't just lash out at people like this, Haru!"

"I don't see you doing anything about it! Why do you think you're so much better than me, you kuso? You think talking's going to solve everything? You think everyone in this world is just dying to be a better person?"

Momiji lessened his grip for an instant, shocked and slightly disillusioned. Because Haru was right: Momiji wanted to believe that human nature was focused on becoming better; but he also realized that there were some in the world that just weren't like that. And it hurt.

Haru took that moment to rip free and punch Momiji across the face. He collapsed on the ground, spitting blood. But everyone was out of the classroom, now. It would be okay. He blocked Haru's upcoming strike and used his force to flip him backward onto the ground; he was no martial artist, but he knew enough. Haru lay there for a moment, and Momiji wondered if he had hurt him. But then he sat up, blinking, eyes back to their usual nonchalant gaze. "Really, Momiji, where did that come from?"

Momiji stood for a minute, panting. Suddenly he realized what Yuki and Kyou felt like in this situation. Tired.

A teacher came in, sensing the worst of it past, and Haru followed him meekly to the office, with a quick apology to the Rabbit, who was already cleaning up the classroom. The girl from earlier peeked at the blond from around the corner, but said nothing before disappearing.

* * *

Lunch time, and Haru was still waiting for his mother in the office. Momiji joined Jakob and Freia outside, intentionally keeping Kisa and Hiro in line of sight. Somewhere between Freia's cheerful chatter (and not noticing the light of new respect that had entered into her eyes after having witnessed that morning's heroics), Momiji noticed a group of girls approach the Tiger and the Sheep. Although he couldn't hear what they were saying, he could tell by Kisa's expression that she was receiving ill-directed heat from that morning's ruckus.

"I'll be right back," he said to his friends, and got up, hastening to the "scene of the crime".

He had just gotten within earshot and was about to rush in to stop the torment when he noticed Hiro stand up. A new sort of challenge was on his face, and Momiji halted suddenly. This was Hiro's battle.

And he fought it well.

* * *

The phone number lay on his desk, taunting him. He knew he should call it. But...just a couple more minutes. He'd run through the Paganini Caprice No. 24 really quickly, and then he'd get to it...

It had been awhile since he'd worked on the Caprice. Wow, he was really bad at it. He worked at it for a little longer, running through the double stops, making sure the staccatos were clean, fine-tuning the fourth- and fifth-position phrases. It was not an easy piece. It was, to put it shortly, an exhausting piece. But well worth it. When he had got it where he wanted it, he ran through it again and again, until his fingers were much more sore than usual, and the lengthening shadows through the window had disappeared altogether, and then reappeared in pale moonlight.

And then he wondered what he had been so desperately putting off. Oh yes...calling Michiko.

He sighed, picked up his cell phone, put it back down. Paced the room, came back, put on his shoes, walked outside, came back in, took his shoes off again.

Just get it over with, baka usagi.

When he thought he could no longer take it, he picked up the phone and dialed her number. It was unavailable, so he left a stupid message of some sort and hung up; it seemed she was calling someone at that moment. He gritted his teeth, thinking of the cellist. His cell said: One missed message. He checked the message. "Hi, Momiji, it's Michiko. Just wanted to let you know I'm back from Hokkaido. Um, give me a call back, kay? Domo."

She must have called just as he had. He laughed a little, spirits uplifted, and picked up the phone, redialing. Busy again. He left another message, and wasn't surprised to find another message on his own phone. "Hi, Momiji, it's me again. I just remembered that I forgot to give you my number in the last message, in case you lost it from before, so..."

Momiji deleted the message before it had finished and hurriedly redialed for the last time. She picked it up before the first ring had finished. "Moshi moshi?"

"Hi, Michiko, it's me. Momiji."

"Wakata yo." Laughter on both ends.

"How was your trip?"

"It was alright. I started having piano withdrawals towards the end, but I guess now I'm re energized to continue, so that's a good thing..."

He took a deep breath, "Anyway..." they both said at the same time. Pause. Laugh. "Anyway," Momiji continued, "I guess I'm still not sure what to do, so what kind of thing would you be interested in doing?"

"On our...date?"

Momiji blushed deeply. "...Yeah. Our date."

"Mm...you mentioned that you like rabbits? Well, I'm into anything small and furry, so why don't we visit a pet shop together? There's this really cute shop a little bit downtown. Wanna meet me there?"

"Sure. What's the address?"

Information exchanged. And then one of those goodbyes where you know neither party really wants to hang up. That kind of goodbye.

It felt good.

* * *

Momiji was somewhat unfamiliar with the area, one of those delightful little corners where everything is a shop, you don't know what purpose some of those shops have, and nothing is entirely necessary for life, but possibly necessary for living. He only really found the shop by spotting the girl with the blue-black hair waving enthusiastically at him from the entrance. He hurried over, smiling and a little out of breath, and then there was one of those moments where both parties really want to hug each other, but are uncertain whether the other does. But both pairs of eyes were shining, and that is a beautiful thing.

"This is such a cute place!" Michiko squealed, delighting in kitties and puppies and colorful birds. Momiji grinned as he observed her.

"This whole district is interesting," he said. "I've never seen so many quaint little shops, all in one area, squished together like dango on a stick." He was quiet for a minute, observing her as she busied herself counting fish in a tank. "Michiko...where do you feel more at home? France, or here in Japan."

She thought about it for a minute. "I don't know," she answered finally. "Paris is such a fascinating place. Japan is just so beautiful. But I often have to ask myself, do I feel safe here? There? Or does it even matter?"

"Sometimes I wish I could find a safe place. It seems like ever since I was a child, I was always searching for a place where there would be no painful memories, no anger."

"Well, that's nonsensical, now isn't it? You can't grow in a place like that, even if you were to find it, could you."

"Mm." He quietly reflected back on the short times he had spent in Germany with his family, before Hatori had erased his mother's memory and they had been split apart forever. There were times there, when his mother was out shopping or spending time with family, when he had felt so safe with his father. Where the four walls of the house seemed to be capable of protecting them from everything that could possibly go wrong in the world. Where else had he felt like that?

In the arms of Tohru.

Michiko stepped away from the fish tank and put a soft hand on his arm, breaking him from his thoughts. "Momiji-kun, where you are is defined by who you are with. Don't give up hope. There is still peace here and there. Where you need to find it is within yourself."

Although it sounded corny, she was right. Momiji knew it.

And then they reached the bunnies.

Bunnies are adorable. What is even more adorable, however, is watching the Rabbit enjoy bunnies. Michiko couldn't take her eyes off him. Everything: his expression, his gentleness, his smile, the way his eyelashes grazed summer-tanned cheeks. Looking up to get her opinion on a Netherland Dwarf, Momiji suddenly became aware of how she was watching him. Nobody minds being adored; he was no exception. He passed said rabbit into her arms and watched her cuddle it, for once feeling a tiny, tiny pang of regret that he no longer had the curse. He wouldn't mind being held by her like that.

He decided it was okay to like her. And it was all over after that.

* * *

They emerged from the shop an hour or so later. There was light laughter and conversation--and suddenly, as she looked around for a shop that seemed likely to carry pickles,--something--she wasn't sure quite what--but it wore a short, frilly skirt, glasses, and a lace pinafore--latched itself onto Michiko.

"Ah, Mine-san!" said Momiji. "How are you? What are you doing in this area?"

She looked up at him with a confused look behind those glasses. Her pregnancy was just barely beginning to show. "Ah, Momiji-kun! What do you mean? I live here. What are you doing in this area? More importantly, who is this very cute girl with you?"

Michiko didn't know whether to be flattered or frightened.

"Mine-san, this is my friend, Michiko. And you...ah...ah..."

For the first time he noticed Ayame's sign, in lacy English calligraphy and graced with flowers, right next to the shop they had just been in. Oops.

At this point he had to follow the two girls, since it seemed Michiko was on the verge of being abducted by the over-enthusiastic Mine.

"Daicho!" Mine shouted. A muffled answer from the back of the shop said, "What is it, Mine? Has mine own beloved Ototo-kun repented of his decision to move far away and has returned to beg our forgiveness and live together in social harmony with his adoring Ni-san?"

"Ah, no, nothing like that, Daicho. We have special visitors."

"Ah! Welcome to our store!" Ayame appeared, adorned in a red velvet medieval costume replete with embroidery and detailed metal armor. Michiko decided it was time to be officially frightened. Fortunately, Momiji, catching the look in her eye, put a comforting arm around her.

"Momiji-kun! You have come, no doubt, after hearing raving reviews of my shop from my own Yuki-kun, in order to decorate the female of your fancy and fulfill your romantic imaginings, ne?"

"Um...no...we were just passing through..."

"Tut tut! No need to be shy! There is no shame in indulging in such fantasies, you know? Mine!" He clapped his hands, and the bespeckled woman dragged off the poor, unsuspecting lass to some dark corner of the shop where Momiji began to fear for said lass's fate. Ayame led him to a couched area, where he sat down leisurely and indicated for the Rabbit to do the same. He felt a bit like a rodent in a snake's den in this place.

"Don't worry, Mine is human, she won't do any bad things," Ayame reassured Momiji. "Hmm...dejavu...Anyway! What brings you and that rather attractive young lady to my store this lovely afternoon?"

"Nothing, really. We were just visiting the pet store next door down. Mine-san spotted Michiko-kun, and..."

"...the rest is history. So, your lady friend, Michiko? How come you never told the rest of us you had found such an enchanting young lady?"

"Ano...that is...nothing's really happening as of yet, Ayame..."

The Snake "tsked" and shook his head knowingly. "Sure, sure. You really don't have to hide anything from me. I am a master of romance, after all..."

"Daicho!" Mine-san's voice came from behind a door. "Bring her out, Mine! Hesitate no longer!"

Hence emerged Mine-san, dragging a very embarrassed Michiko behind her, judging from the shade of her cheeks. She refused to meet Momiji's eyes. Oni-Michiko glowered and growled.

It was a simple strapless black dress, red ribbon running along the bottom of the flared skirt, and a red bow accentuating the curves of her waist. On the back were filmy white "wings". Ayame immediately took out his cell phone and took pictures "to commemorate the day of Momiji's romance" (more dejavu).

Momiji suddenly realized how Ayame had gotten so much popularity for his shop. He wasn't able to look at Michiko the same after that.

Before leaving, he purchased a dark green barrette from the shop. Because it reminded him of her eyes.

And she wore it to rehearsal that Thursday.

Kuso: should be obvious from the context  
Domo: thanks  
Wakata yo: I know  
Dango: sticky sweet balls made from rice flour skewered on a stick  
Daicho: boss


	10. Chapter 10: Mesto

Chapter 10: Mesto

He couldn't believe it. Even after confirming with Haru three times over the phone and twice at school.

Rin was expecting a baby.

"You're sure there's no mistake?" he asked Haru for the twelfth time that day. Haru grunted, shoved his hands in his pockets. But there was something like the glimmer of a grin on his face. "I already told you, Momiji, she's taken about six pregnancy tests already, and they're all positive. Looks like we're expecting a baby."

"Well, congratulations," said a very confused Momiji. Haru hadn't even graduated from high school yet. Even though there were ample funds from the Sohma estate available for all the former members of the Zodiac, Haru still didn't have a job, and for some reason that worried Momiji. Besides, was he or Rin mature and responsible enough for that sort of thing yet?

"How long has she been pregnant?"

"About a month and a half, I guess. The doctors told her a long time ago that since she's had so many internal problems, it wouldn't be possible for her to have children, but it seems they were wrong, huh?"

The two of them walked along the school hallway in silence for a minute. Then, "Haru, daijobu desu ka?"

"What in the world do you mean, Momiji?"

"Well, this is such a big responsibility, are you sure you can take it on at this point in your life?"

Haru turned slightly disgusted eyes on him. "Don't you dare compare us to you parents, my parents, Rin's parents, or anyone else's parents, understand? Parenting is something that is unique with every different person. Rin and have been talking about this. We are in agreement with how we want to raise this child. It will be loved, it will be disciplined gently, it will be understood. We will always have time for it; we will never mock or discourage it. This is the way we want to raise our child."

"Oh don't we know so much," said Momiji, laughing slightly. Haru's know-it-all airs were somewhat amusing. The Ox gave him a sideways glance.

"Anyway, are you doing anything this afternoon? Come visit us. Jakob and Freia are coming this afternoon; you should join them."

"Well, I guess that's okay..." He had been considering calling Michiko that afternoon, but he guessed it could wait until that evening. "Should I bring anything?"

Haru considered. "Pickles...you should bring pickles."

"Nani?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Rin ripped the pickles out of Momiji's hands as soon as she saw him offering them to her. Likewise, she plucked the carton of ice cream that Freia had brought from her arms. Then she immediately sat down and began consuming said items.

He looked from ravenous Rin, to harried Haru, to pickles and ice cream.

"Ah..." He understood now.

Haru and Rin's place was wide, open, with Western-style furniture and a nice entertainment system. Momiji, Jakob and Freia seated themselves on a couch and accepted the tea that was offered to them.

Freia was the first to offer happy congratulations to Rin. Momiji was startled by how quickly Rin's face softened when the two of them began talking. Freia had that effect on people.

The boys talked among themselves. "So, Haru, how does this effect your plans for after high school?" Jakob asked, in his usual serious demeanor. Haru leaned back, stretching his arms over the top of the couch and over Rin's shoulders.

"It doesn't really effect them much," he said. "We have sufficient funds in order for me to make it through college, and I've already decided to go to a local college nearby."

"What career will you be pursuing?"

"I've decided to go into elementary education," he replied. "Specifically, I want to target fifth or sixth grade."

That seemed very fitting for the low-key Haru. Even with the recent "black" event, Momiji could tell that he had been calming down much more since he and Rin had gotten back together and the curse had broken. Besides, Haru's nature was gentle and patient. Such a career was ideal for him.

"Can you believe it?" Jakob asked. "There are only three months until New Year's, and after that only a few months until graduation. I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm a little sad that time is flying by so fast. What about you, Momiji? Have you decided what to do with your future?"

Momiji looked away. "I...haven't decided yet." Teaching music? Possibly. But he'd really prefer to perform. "I have a general idea, I guess," he said, hoping the topic would fade.

Jakob was never good at picking up on when other people wanted to drop a conversation. "College applications are due soon, Momiji. Unless you decide soon, you'll have to wait another year to apply."

"Wakata yo!" Momiji's angry outburst, so uncharacteristic of his usual demeanor, caught the attention of even the girls, who stopped their conversation and stared at him. He winced. "I'm...sorry. It's just...I have a definite dream, but accomplishing it is turning out to be more complicated than I thought it was when I was younger."

Freia smiled understandingly and patted his knee comfortingly. "Don't worry so much," she said. "We all know you'll excel at whatever it is you choose to do."

He looked over at her, met her eyes. They were full of trust, and something else which he wasn't quite comfortable with. Expectation. What was she expecting, and what did it have to do with him?

Haru and Jakob exchanged glances.

* * *

Momiji didn't understand why Jakob had had such an urgent impulse to stay for the evening with Haru and Rin, but one way or another, he found himself walking Freia back to her house a couple of hours later. Come to think of it, it was the first time they had ever been out alone with each other. Momiji wasn't entirely sure what to say. It seemed like they could only talk to each other when other people were around.

Freia somewhat forcefully commented on the weather, and Momiji agreed with whatever she had said. There was more silence. The sun was beginning to hit the horizon, and there were very few people out on the streets, aside from mothers calling in their children for dinner, and the occasional late-working husband tiredly arriving at home. The glinting red of the dying sunlight glittered off Freia's curls, making them glimmer gold and red, and her hazel eyes looked almost translucent. It was getting chilly, and Momiji, being the ultimate gentleman, very politely offered Freia his jacket when he noticed her shivering. She accepted it gratefully, snuggling under the warmth of his arms as he helped her put it on.

He watched a forgotten ball roll down the side of the street, along the gutter. A lone dove up in a tree, mourning the death of the day in low, haunting tones. And how the momiji leaves were trembling on the edges of branches, preparing to fall off for winter. It was like a poem.

"Momiji..." Freia suddenly blurted out. He stopped in his tracks as she did. Had she ever used that serious of a tone of voice before? They turned to face each other, her looking swamped in his jacket.

Her eyes were gleaming up at him, at once very wide; her breath was coming in forced gasps. He noticed again the expectation that had been present in her eyes before, except now it was flooding her entire body. And he understood, with a slamming sense of realization.

"Momiji-kun, anata ga suki desu."

His mouth fell slightly open as she continued to look at him with those pleading eyes. Pleading for affirmation. Affirmation he just couldn't give. He closed his eyes so tightly, ducked his head, as if in pain, clenched his fists at his sides. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to have to do this.

"Gomen...nasai...Freia..."

She gasped, stepping backwards. "Iie, iie, mo ii. Don't say any more. I knew; I always knew...I tried to convince myself that you cared, but I..." The words died very suddenly in her throat, like a taut string suddenly snipped by a pair of sharp scissors. She shed his jacket, shoved it into his arms, and took off running. He felt pain wrenching at his heart like he hadn't felt since the curse had broken and he'd realized how hopeless it was to love Tohru. If this was what it felt like to be on the receiving end of unrequited love, he thought it was the cruelest thing of all.

Both Haru and Jakob were quite angry with him the following day, in the passive way in which they ignored him completely.

She didn't speak to him for a couple of weeks after that, with downcast eyes whenever they passed each other in the classroom, and staying on the other side of the room during clean-up. But eventually, an inevitable smile crept out, and they began saying "hello" again. And not long after that, they started talking again. And before either of them knew it, she'd forgiven him completely, and they were friends again.

Daijobu desu ka: are you okay?  
Anata ga suki desu: I like you  
Mo ii: that's enough


	11. Chapter 11: Con Brio

Chapter 11: Con brio

Eventually Haru forgave him. He wasn't sure if Jakob ever did, completely, but it was good to have Haru joking with him again.

And other things were making life much more pleasant. Of course, there was Michiko, and also that Shi-san had approached him the rehearsal after their drinking escapade.

"Ano, how are you doing, Batsushi-san?" Momiji had asked, a little worried about how awkward he felt after the night at the bar. Fortunately, Shi-san didn't seem to remember much of it; at least, he never mentioned it.

"Sohma-san, Shiro-san recently sprained his right wrist while playing tennis."

"How unfortunate!"

Shi-san tossed a pile of sheet music on Momiji's stand. He had the presence of mind to catch the music as the stand teetered to the left and dumped its contents to the floor. Momiji's eyes scanned over the music, and he gasped. "Sir..."

"It's the solo from the Brahms' concerto. I expect you to have it learned by next week."

"Hai!" Momiji's grin couldn't be contained.

Since then, he had been first chair violinist of the community orchestra. It was delicious.

* * *

Several weeks later, he and Michiko were staying late after rehearsal, going over the music together when he decided it was time. Well, time to create the time. He cleared his throat, and Michiko, completely absorbed in the music she was studying, looked up, startled. "Hai?"

"Ano, Michiko-kun, could I borrow some of your time this Sunday? That is, would you like to come over to my place?"

She blinked at him with large eyes the color of tangled seaweed. The notes in her head were still muddling the world, but after a minute, she got what he was saying, and absolute delight spread over her features. "I'd love to!" she said. "What time?"

"Well, what time is best for you?"

"I don't care, I'm free all day! Would I seem terribly desperate if I said 'earlier is better'?"

"Not at all," Momiji said, laughing at her eagerness. "Shall we say brunch, then? Around 10:30?"

"Sore ha ii desu yo!"

He gave her his address, and the rest of that week he waited eagerly for Sunday morning.

* * *

After taking forever to arrive, said Sunday finally decided to grace Momiji with its presence. He spent all that morning scurrying about, buying groceries, cleaning up his apartment, trying on outfits, and when he thought he had everything perfect, he began rearranging stuff. That's what happens when you're expecting someone you care about to show up. At 10:15, his phone rang, and he rapidly picked it up.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Hi, Momiji-kun, it's Michiko. Sorry I'm a little early...demo..."

"Iie! Come on up!" He hurriedly turned off his cell and dashed out of the room to guide Michiko to his apartment. They met out in the hallway, both grinning like maniacs, both a wee bit out of breath. Presently, Momiji remembered his manners, and cocking an eyebrow in a "proper Englishman" expression, offered her his arm, which she took, also assuming a haughty expression.

Such expressions ended when they entered his apartment. She took a minute to look around and acquaint herself with her new surroundings. Unbeknownst to her, most of the rabbit decorative devices had disappeared, and the schizophrenia of his walls had calmed down a bit. She found herself a little impressed at how tidy he kept the place, and a little horrified at the depth of the dust that covered certain neglected horizontal surfaces, such as the bookcases. Clearly he had been taught somethings, but not everything. She pondered a bit about his family and how he had been raised. A certain glass jar on one of the shelves caught her attention.

"Ano, Momiji-kun..." she said, "is that the pickle jar that you had the first time we met..."

"Michiko-kun, are you hungry? I thought we could have brunch modeled after a European style. It took me a while to find sausage, demo..."

She followed the sound of his voice into the small kitchen. He was semi-buried in the refrigerator, pulling out eggs, fruit, cheese, several varieties of jam, and of course sausage. All these things lined up on the counter, he turned around at last and beamed at her. "Well?"

She had to laugh a little. He had really gone the extra mile. "You're missing something key," she said.

His face fell a bit. "Aww, I tried so hard! What did I forget?"

She dashed over to her bag, which she had put on the floor next to her shoes by the entrance. She pulled out a long, brown bag as well as a smaller, squatter brown bag, and presented them to him. "Ta-da!"

He opened the long one and pulled out a long, crispy baguette. He looked a little astonished. "Where in the world did you find this?"

A small smug smile. "I learned how to make French bread a long time ago. Pere really likes them; he says they remind him of Paris. Open the other one."

He pulled out several feather-light croissants. "Wow! I used to hear about these in Germany, but I don't think I've ever had one." He automatically bit into one, and his eyes widened. "I have to admit, it's not the taste I was expecting."

"Still good, though?"

"Dunno. I'll have to take another bite..."

She whisked the remaining away from him and gave him a pretend scowl. "Warui usagi!"

"Eh? What did you call me?"

"You like bunnies, right? So whenever you misbehave, I'm going to call you a bad rabbit!"

"Ah..." He took a big sigh of relief. For a moment, he'd been convinced that she was a mind-reader.

"Do we have everything now?" he asked her.

"No, we're still missing the most important thing!" she said, and drew from behind her back...a jar of pickles!

Amid laughter and teasing, they began "brunch" preparations. Michiko set Momiji to work on frying the eggs, and she herself began cutting the bread and cheese. When everything was ready, they brought their brunch, enough food for a small army, over to the counter that opened out into the main room, which Momiji had supplied with tall stools for this very purpose (admittedly much colder than a cozy kotatsu, but certain reservations must be made for European cuisine). "Itadakimasu!" they said in unison, and dug in.

Momiji loved the baguettes and croissants. Michiko was a brilliant baker. The crusts were paper-thin, and the inside was airy and soft. The odd assortment of meats, cheese and preserves worked perfectly with the texture of the bread. But...

Michiko took a bite of the eggs and a very, very odd expression crossed her face. She quickly reached for her water and drank the entire glass at once. Then she swiveled on her stool to face Momiji. They looked at each other for a moment, and Momiji was quite confused as to what was going on. Then, suddenly, she leaned forward, pinched his nose, and when he opened his mouth, shoved in a forkful of the eggs. He instantly understood her expression.

"Bleh!" He swallowed with difficulty and stuck out his tongue. "What in the world?" He immediately quaffed his glass of water as well.

She couldn't keep the laughter in any longer. She laughed until her sides ached, and her eyes watered, and she almost fell off the stool. When she had finally regained her composure, she said, between giggles, "You don't cook much, do you?"

"Ah, iie...I usually get instant stuff or eat take out...What clued you in?"

"You...put...cayenne pepper...in...the...eggs!"

"Ano...is that bad?"

In the end, everything else was edible. But when friends asked her, twenty years later, why she never let her husband into the kitchen, Michiko would recount this experience with glee. And Momiji always blushed.

It was closing into evening. They were still in his apartment, sitting on the floor with their backs to the wall and their shoulders touching, with (scandalous!) the same fluffy blanket covering both their lower bodies. They were experiencing that wonderful sensation that happens to new young couples where they touch each other without actually touching each other. Some people describe it as butterflies in the stomach. Momiji thought it was more like the sensation you feel when you hear THE piece of music that changes your life and inspires you more than any other experience.

Michiko wondered idly how long it would be until her Pere started to worry about her. She also began to wonder exactly how much her father had already guessed about her relationship with Momiji. Then she herself had to wonder what their relationship was, exactly...

He didn't let her wonder long. "Michiko-kun, can I ask you something?" he said in a tone that left little to be guessed as to what the question would be. She felt her heart stop, turn a couple of somersaults, and try to beat its way out of her chest. "Ha...hai!"

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall, and blew out his breath very slowly, so that the light locks of hair clustering on his forehead lifted gently. Hurry up and ask, you baka! Oni-Michiko said inside Michiko's head.

He turned those gorgeous brown eyes of his to meet hers. He was so serious, she could swear he was locking onto her soul. Physically, he took one of her hands in both of his and lifted it to his cheek, closing his eyes when the palm of her hand traced the side of his face. "Michiko..." he breathed, and opened his eyes.

She finally lost patience. "Hai! Hai, hai, hai, hai, hai!"

Astonishment cross his features. "Demo...I haven't even asked yet..."

"Then ask already, you baka! Here I'm dying to say 'hai' and you won't even ask the question!"

He chuckled. "Okay, okay!" He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. "Michiko, would you be my girlfriend?"

"HAI!!!"

It wasn't a terribly romantic moment, but relationships that last forever hardly ever begin on the most romantic note.

* * *

Eventually her father did call, with a small hint of impatience in his voice, and Michiko reluctantly supposed she needed to leave. Momiji, being not only the ultimate gentleman that he was, but also now a young man in love, gladly walked her back to her house. It was dark by the time they reached her door, and they paused there for a moment, just looking at each other, white breath mingling in the chill air, desperately wanting to cling to each other and all that nonsense, but not sure if the other wants to. Communication is something that grows with time in a relationship. Plus, they were both still rather dense at this point.

Nevertheless, they were standing out there, with her eyes shining under the frosty lamplight like two emerald-green dragonflies, and him hardly believing that he had just asked her to be his girlfriend, and both wondering what implications that had: what other people would say, what they should say to each other, what they would do the next time they saw each other, but most importantly, what they should do right now.

The moment for the kiss was there, and then it wasn't. Just as Momiji began bending his head toward Michiko's face, the tell-tale scraping of the door announced her father's arrival. He instantly straightened up and faced her father, face a little red. "Konbanha, Hime-san." He nodded at the younger boy in return and then looked at his daughter. His expression softened a bit when he noticed the glimmer of joy dancing on every feature on her face. "Avez-vous l'amusement, Michiko?"

"Oui, Pere," she said. Then, naturally, that awkward silent spot. Momiji finally said, "Well, good night, Michiko-kun. Thank you for spending time with me today."

"Kochira koso, Momiji-kun," she said. He quickly touched her shoulder and then said, "Goodnight, sir."

He took a deep breath when they had closed the door behind them. Wow.

Sore wa ii desu yo: that's great!  
Konbanha: good evening


	12. Chapter 12: Jubiloso

Chapter 12: Jubiloso

"Momiji, did something happen to you yesterday? Ne, Momiji!"

He snapped out of his cliched reverie. Haru stood beside him. A little ways off, Kisa was actually talking to a couple of the girls in her class, including the one Momiji had defended a little while earlier. And she was smiling. Softly, in the background, one of Momiji's male classmates was singing, "Jr. high girls, jr. high girls, all for me..."

"Nani?"

Haru spoke very slowly, in exaggerated tones. "I said did anything happen to you yesterday."

"Ano...sore ha..." Momiji's hand automatically came up to rub the back of his neck. But he was grinning like an idiot, and he knew it.

Haru rolled his eyes, shoved his hands in his pockets and looked various expressions between angry and sad until at last Momiji asked, "Haru, what's wrong?"

Haru sighed deeply, the sort of sigh that reaches into your toes and drags out every ounce of pain, tension and frustration and packages it all up. "Rin. I don't get her...I don't know what she's up to, any of that. Every moment, it's complain, complain, complain. Her back hurts, she's hungry, she's tired, she feels sick. Sometimes it drives me crazy. And we don't seem to agree on anything! I don't know why, but when I try to get her to talk about stuff like...ah...feeding the baby..." (Momiji ducked his head and coughed into his fist) "...she doesn't want to discuss it. And everything, everything I do gets on her nerves. I can't discuss anything with her. And every day I wake up in the morning and find myself thinking, all of this is a mistake, I wish I could take it back, I'm not ready, she's not ready..."

It was not the moment to say, "I told you so." Even if it was, Momiji wouldn't have said it. Instead, he put a hand on Haru's shoulder and stood there silently, even when the bell had rung class in, and the halls were bare except for the two of them, until Haru finally lifted his head wearily. "Well," he said. And neither said any more about it for the time being.

* * *

Sometimes it was hard to see improvement in his students. In fact, even though he was very, very patient and never used an exasperated tone of voice, Momiji wondered how it was possible for them not to be able to detect the tonal battle that was raging in his ears.

He suppressed a sigh for the tenth time that day and redemonstrated on his own violin. "See, Suza, it's like this. All of your flexibility in the bow needs to come from your wrist and elbow, not your shoulder. Watch what happens when I try to do this the way you're doing it." He drew the bow across the strings, exaggerating the use of his shoulder so that the young boy could see what was wrong. "If you use your shoulder, the bow will cross the strings at an angle, instead of straight across. Try it again, kudasai."

And then there were days like this. Suza did not feel like trying that day. After "trying" for the third time, he put his violin and bow down and sat down in a chair, arms crossed, scowling for all he was worth. "Why do I even have to do this? The violin is a girly instrument. I don't even want to learn music; my parents are making me learn."

Momiji had been exposed to this situation before. Nevertheless, it did not make it any more enjoyable to go through. Inevitably, if he tried to force him to continue, he would go home and complain to his parents, and they would blame everything on Momiji. If he didn't make him shape up, he'd continue to be lazy and sloppy.

Ultimately, even though he couldn't believe it, some people were not meant to be musicians. But it was impossible to tell at this stage. Some children were just strong-willed, and needed to learn on their own. Some of those would become even better than those who had lessons from a very young age.

So Momiji knew that like it or not, he just had to let go and let live, and leave the choice up to his student and kami. He put his own violin and bow away carefully and sat in a chair across from Suza, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees so that his eyes were level with the top of the bent, scowling head. "Can you tell me why you don't want to learn music? Is it because it's not fun for you?"

Sulky silence for a minute. Momiji let it hang. Suza began kicking his feet. Finally, he said, "It's too much work. Learning all these notes is like trying to learn English or something. I thought music was supposed to be easy."

"But music is a different language. When you listen to something by Beethoven or Schubert, and the music swells, and all the instruments harmonize together, doesn't that make your heart sing?"

"Yeah..."

"Then you understand music. That's a start. The next step is being able to communicate to others with music. That's why you need to learn notes, bow placement, and dynamics."

"I just wish," Suza blurted out, "I just wish I could play the music, the way it sounds in my head, or how I hear other people play it, and not have to worry about reading music and all that stuff."

Something clicked in Momiji's head. Suza was bowing wrong on purpose. It wasn't playing that was the problem; it was reading the notes. He decided to do an experiment he had never tried before.

He got up, put a CD in the classroom player, and turned up the volume. From the speakers came the sweet tone of Bach's Minuet in G. Momiji keenly watched Suza out of the corner of his eye. At first, the boy stopped kicking, his head still down. Presently, he started tapping his feet to the music, and eventually he lifted his head, listening and concentrating, his left hand fingers finding the positions of the notes in midair.

The piece ended, and Momiji picked up Suza's violin and bow and handed them to him. "Try it," he said. Suza looked astonished. "But...without music...how can I?"

"Just try it," Momiji said. "The first note is a D."

Hesitantly at first, and then becoming more and more accustomed to the music, Suza found the notes on the violin, picking them out by ear. Then he tried it again, this time more confidently. Again and again, until he had the bowing, phrasing, and notes all perfect. Momiji smiled. There were some musicians like that. He wasn't one of them, but he admired those who were. True, Suza would eventually need to learn to read music, but for now, inspiring his interest was the important thing. You can only become good at music if you love it. If you don't, no matter how perfectly you can play the notes, you are not a musician.

* * *

He was still thinking about this when he arrived at Michiko's house later on that evening. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but then dropped it. For some reason, he couldn't breathe. Couldn't even think, really.

Today, he was going to talk to her father, one on one. Based on his previous experiences with her father, he was extremely uneasy.

He was saved the effort of knocking when the door suddenly slid open, revealing Hime-san, who eyed him from behind stern eyeglasses. "Well, Sohma-san, will you please come in?"

Momiji bowed his head as he entered the genkan, taking off his coat, and placed his shoes on the getabako. Inside, he looked around. This place lacked something that he couldn't quite define. The washitsu was a little bare, with few articles of furniture, even for Japan, and an understated tokonoma with a picture of the Eiffel tower hanging from the wall and a picture of a woman whom he correctly assumed was Michiko's mother. He followed Hime-san into a Western-style room, where there were abundant bookshelves, two office chairs, a desk, and a small fountain. The older man took a seat, evidently much at his own ease, and leaned back, steepling his fingers. After a minute, he gestured to Momiji to sit down across from him. He did so, somewhat awkwardly and sat stiffly. He could have sworn there was a twinkle in Michiko's father's eye.

Hime-san gestured to a decorative alcove set up in the wall. "Did you notice that katana? Beautiful, isn't it? Made in the Edo period, one of the finest specimans. It can cut easily through wood or bone."

Momiji fidgeted very uncomfortably in his chair. The other man regarded him in silence.

"So, what is it, Sohma-san? You sounded a little nervous when you called over the phone and said there was something that you wanted to discuss with me. Well, don't worry, boy, you can tell me, whatever it is." Once again the man's eyes drifted up to the shining katana.

Momiji officially broke a sweat. Hime-san leaned forward and forced their eyes to meet. "You came here to ask me if you could date mon fille, right?"

"Ha...hai..."

Once again he leaned back, still a calm expression on his face. "Hmm, I'm not sure if I can agree to that too quickly. She is my only child, after all. I swore to mon femme that I'd take care of her forever."

"I can take care of her, too!" Momiji's voice suddenly burst out, startling them both. Hime-san actually was a little impressed when he noticed the heated flush rise on the young man's face. "I swear to you, I'd never hurt her, and I'd do all I could in my power to keep others from hurting her. I like her; I truly do. If I didn't, I wouldn't be willing to..." He broke off suddenly, thinking about the pain in Freia's eyes when he had told her he couldn't care for her. Even then, he'd known that if there was someone to take Tohru's place, it would be someone who had worked her way into his heart because she was herself, not because she reminded him of Tohru. "Listen, sir, Michiko isn't a child. She knows how I feel about her, and I know she feels the same way. Please give me a chance to make her happy. I won't disappoint you, I promise." He bowed his head, waiting for the verdict.

Hime-san was silent for another minute. Two minutes. Suddenly Momiji heard something he wasn't expecting. Very, very quiet laughter. He risked it and peeked. Hime-san's head had fallen backward over the top of the chair, and he was shaking in silent laughter. After a minute, he looked back at Momiji, the hinted twinkle rather pronounced and the face in a full out grin. Then he assumed an "office" stance, sitting up straight, hands clasped on table, serious expression. "And you promise you'll take care of her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you sure you can keep that promise?"

"Absolutely."

"Well then." He stood up, offered a hand to Momiji. He took it awkwardly, standing in his turn. "You are welcome to date my daughter, with the stipulation that you are to be the ultimate...do you understand me, Sohma-san?...ultimate gentleman in her presence. Is that understood?"

Momiji finally started to smile. Suddenly he could see where so much of Michiko's personality came from. "Hai!" He didn't have any problem being the ultimate gentleman.

After sharing some sake (which Momiji, honestly, approached with severest caution), Hime-san opened the office door and gestured for Momiji to go through. "Michiko is out in the practice room. If you'd like, you can give her the good news."

"Hai! Arigato gozaimasu!" He could hardly keep from running in the direction Hime-san pointed him.

Outside the room, he halted suddenly. From within came the beauty of Schubert's Impromptu No. 4. Eager as he was, he closed his eyes for a minute, soaking in the sound. When the piece had ended, he slid open the fusuma, quietly. Michiko's back was to him; she was penciling in some notes on the music in front of her. He crept up behind her and kissed her on the cheek. She whipped her face around so suddenly that their noses almost collided; then she laughed. Her eyes were the merry color of clovers. "I take it my father gave you his permission to date me, then?" she asked.

"Yup!" His face was practically splitting from all the grinning. She laughed again. "I know; he told me it was okay on the date you walked me back from your apartment. I'm sorry, but he insisted on giving you a hard time."

"He took full advantage of it," Momiji said.

"Ah, can't blame him," she replied. "After all, he's only got one chance to do it, he may as well enjoy it."

"You both...making it hard on me like that..."

She grinned in glee. Oni-Michiko was having a hay-day. "You should be able to tell by now, right? Pere and I are both unrepentant mischief-makers, and partners in crime."

"Yeah, I kind of got that. What music are you working on now?"

"Well, I just finished the Schubert Impromptu, and now I'm bracing myself for this fugue. I swear Bach's trying to kill me..."

He looked over her shoulder at the music on the piano. "Seven sharps, huh? What in the world?"

"I know, if he'd only gone with five flats I would've been fine, but Monsieur Bach decided, 'Noooo, if I'm going to write for every key in the Well-Tempered Clavier, I may as well have my performers suffer, as well'. Personally, I prefer the fugue in E minor. It's so unusual and interesting..."

The phone out in the hall began to ring. "Shall I get it?" Momiji asked.

"Iie, daijobu desu." She stood up and eyed the piece vindictively. "I'll be back," she said, and went to get the phone. Of course, since this was all said in Japanese, there really was no pun intended.

A couple of hours later, regretfully, Momiji left, bidding his lady adieu with the proper kiss on the hand. She waved him off, smiling and blushing at the same time.

* * *

He decided to drop by Haru and Rin's place on the way, to see how they were doing.

He climbed the stairs to their apartment and was about to knock on the door when he heard angry shouting from within. He paused, hand still in the air. Although he couldn't make out all the words, he could tell they were in a heated argument. Rin's voice was hysterical, sometimes peaking in a screech or scream, sometimes sobbing. Haru's shouting was so uncharacteristic that Momiji wondered if he had slipped into "black" mode.

He felt the elated feeling that had been soaring his his chest since Hime-san had said yes fade out, to be replaced with heaviness. The situation seemed worse than he had expected. Even though he knew a lot of it was the crazy pregnant hormones Rin was dealing with, he still felt that there was a good deal more tension in the situation than there should be.

After standing there a little longer, he decided it would make matters worse if he were to interfere and left for home.

* * *

The second concert was coming up so rapidly that Momiji felt overwhelmed. He was also beginning to feel a little nervous, working over his solo material for the Brahms over and over, finessing details, bringing out the greatest range of emotion possible. Often, he and Michiko met together outside of rehearsal to go over the music together. And also to talk...and to walk together...and eat together...and hold hands. Even though he hadn't kissed her yet, he was willing to wait a little longer, preferring to draw out to the maximum each level of touch before progressing to the next. Michiko didn't complain, but Oni-Michiko did, loudly, inside her head.

Why won't he just kiss you? It's not like it's that big of a deal. Iie, but this is the way he wants to take things, and I'm going to respect that, she argued back. Usually it's the girl who has to hold back; seriously, what's wrong with him? It's not like Pere's going to complain, even if you go a little too far...

Shut up! Momiji isn't that sort of person. I don't want to take things faster than he does. It's okay, I think we'll be together for a long time.

While all this was going on, of course, Michiko was smiling and laughing with Momiji, who was blissfully unaware of the chaos inside her head. Even if he'd known, he would've just laughed, and she knew that.

Shi-san was getting agitated during rehearsals as they approached the concert date. More than once, he shouted things to the brass or winds like, "It's 'con moto ma no troppo'. What's so hard to understand about that?"

Time was so full that Momiji completely forgot when the application and examination deadline passed for the colleges he was considering. Jakob would have been horrified, but on the day when he woke up and realized it, he knew that he wasn't meant for the sort of college that would pigeonhole him up with a bunch of business majors or science majors, with students who lost their souls among examinations and textbooks. He'd rather be a starving artist than a fat CEO. Not that he had to face starvation yet, though; he wouldn't have to for a while, either. That, at least, was a comforting thought.

There was one thing about the concert that bothered him. Tohru, who had been eager to attend this concert, regretfully phoned him a week before and told him that Kyou had come with a nasty case of pneumonia. She was determined not to leave his side until he was better. Momiji, who really did want to see her, nevertheless respected the fact that she took illness very seriously, given her past. He told her not to worry, that they'd see each other eventually, and he'd send her a "year of the Horse" nengajo. She told him she'd send him one, too.

"But Yuki is going home for the New Year's break, ne? You'll all get to see him, isn't that great?"

"Hai...demo, you're the one I want to see, Tohru-kun."

She noted the longing in his voice, now much deeper that the last time she had heard it during the summer. "Well, I'll tell you what. I'll make a special trip out before my wedding in April. Is that okay?"

"Hai!" Actually, a plan was beginning to work in Momiji's brain. At last, the dream he'd told Tohru about would begin to come together.

* * *

The night of the concert, he got dressed at the concert hall in the new tuxedo he'd bought. Of course, he needed to look sharp tonight. He was first chair violinist, after all.

Michiko appeared behind him in the mirror as he was adjusting his bow tie. She laughed at him. "You're really bad at this," she said, and retied it. As she straightened it to perfection, he noticed how lovely she looked in her floor-length, high necked black velvet dress. Silver embroidery lined the Chinese collar and decorative flowers. He caught her chin in his hand and turned it up to look him in the eye. "You look beautiful," he said, absolute honesty ringing in every tone of his voice. Then he started to notice the cute way her lips parted, forming a small bow. She noticed his gaze and all thought of breathing vanished. Oni-Michiko was singing, "You wanna kiss the girl..." For once, she didn't argue.

The door behind them slammed open, and they broke apart, flushing. "Sohma-san, are you ready?" asked the violinst who had entered.

"Hai. I'm coming out now," he said. He put an arm around Michiko's waist as he escorted her out and over to backstage. "Later," he whispered in her ear. She blushed as red as he had ever seen her and nodded. Backstage, he readied his instrument, and she prayed that the tuner had gotten around to the piano. Then, at a sign from the back-stage director, all the rest of the musicians began walking on to stage. He stayed behind, trying to breathe, waiting for his turn. Crap, does the conductor go onstage first, or the soloist? His answer came when the stage director signaled, "You're on" to him, and he, with Shi-san a little behind him, strode onto the stage.

The stage was a place where you felt vulnerable, like a biological specimen being surveyed under a microscope. He dismissed such feelings and concentrated. This was about the music: not where he was, not who was out in the audience, but about sharing passion, angst, sorrow and joy through wordless sound.

He shook hands with the second chair violinist, filling in for him, since he was the soloist, and gave the rest of the strings the tuned A. They reciprocated his notes, tuning the rest of their strings a perfect 5th apart; the brass and winds likewise tuned to the A. Once the sounds of tuning were completed, he turned to Shi-san. Trying to gaze above the heads of the audience, although really all he could see was the blinding stage lights in his face and that weird black that fills your eyes when you're in bright light, he calmed his breathing, and to his left, Shi-san began the first movement.

He had a couple of minutes to get easy with the stage, although he felt like a bit of an idiot while the rest of the orchestra was playing and he was just standing there. Finally, his entrance. He readied himself, lifting the violin to the strings, and miraculously, a clear, beautiful tone soared out of his instrument.

At the end, the audience were actually cheering. A few stood, and most of the rest of the audience followed. Momiji couldn't keep from grinning from ear to ear. There were shouts of "Bravo!". In a way, it was almost a sweeter sound than music.

At the reception afterwards, he had intended to talk to Michiko, but he found himself being surrounded. "Sohma-san, when did you begin learning music?" "Sohma-san, how old are you? I was so surprised that they'd let someone so young do that solo." "What plans do you have for the future, Sohma-san?"

Amidst all this fray, Shi-san managed to shoo them away and draw Momiji to an isolated corner. "Well done, Sohma-san. I never told you this before, but you have an excellent touch. I can see you going far."

"Arigato, sir." He decided not to tell him that he had actually said similar words to him before, remember it or not.

"Listen, boy, you really do have a gift. I don't usually tell people this, but I used to be a conductor in Germany."

"Ah, is that so?" with feigned surprise. Shi-san nodded.

"Furthermore, I have some connections in Vienna. I know a fantastic violinist there; he doesn't perform any more, but you can't get a better master for instruction. Japan is a wonderful country, boy, but when it comes to musical instruction, you can't beat Vienna. If I refer you to him, would you be willing to consider moving overseas to take instruction from this teacher?"

"Hai!" Momiji was shocked out of his socks. He hadn't expected an offer like this, not in a million years. "How shall I get in contact with him, sir?"

"I'll talk to him first. If he agrees, I'll instruct you on how to contact him. Be careful, boy, don't upset him. The best musicians can be difficult to get along with, especially in older age. That's part of genius. If you can get along with him, he will do things for you that no one else in the world will."

"Hai, sir."

When they emerged, although he was, once again, instantly surrounded by admirers, well-wishers and critics, he spotted something he'd not anticipated. Over in a corner stood his father, his mother, and Momo. Despite all the people around him, he hurriedly excused himself and rushed over to greet them.

Momo was the first to greet him, making a diving hug into his waistline. He laughed, patting her head, and then he looked up at his parents.

"Well done," his father said. "I'm glad that we're allowing our daughter to work with you. You seem like a real musician, and we can tell you're rubbing off on Momo."

"Hai," his mother said. "Very good job tonight, Momiji-kun. Why, it seems like yesterday you were just a small boy running around my husband's building, helping your friend clean."

"That was a long time ago," Momiji said, laughing and simultaneously trying to pry Momo from his waist so he could move. "Thank you very much for letting me work with your daughter. She's coming along very well. Does musicianship run in your family?"

He had to admit he'd done it out of slight vengeance, but even though his father grimaced a bit, his mother noticed nothing. "No," she said, "it seems like Momo just inherited a gift from the sky. Half the time she's talking on and on about music, and I don't understand anything she's saying." She laughed. Momiji marvelled. His mother was so beautiful when she laughed. It was hard to believe that at one time, she'd been unable to even look at him.

"Well," his father said, "we'd better be getting home. Good job tonight, once again. Come on, Momo."

Unfortunately, by the time he was able to escape the concert hall, Michiko had already left. He felt saddened by it, but brightened up a bit. After all, he could just call her when he got back to his apartment, right?

* * *

New Years approached, and the night Yuki arrived, gladly accepting to stay at Momiji's for a couple of days (rather than risk the horrors of Ayame's), it snowed heavily, covering the ground with white. Yuki spent a couple of hurried moments with his cousin before excusing himself to make a call.

"Ah, she's coming," he said, hanging up. "I hope you don't mind if my girlfriend comes over, Momiji."

"Iie," he said, smiling.

"I hope we can get out there before the snow melts," his cousin continued, deep in thought. "I made a promise a couple of years ago. I'm going to fulfill it no matter what."

Momiji was a tad confused. He switched the subject. "Have you spoken to Haru recently?" he asked.

Yuki sighed, his good mood deflated for the moment. "Hai," he answered. "I heard that Rin is pregnant, and also that they aren't getting along right now. It doesn't make sense. Haru is usually so patient with Rin. Why all the anxiety right now?"

"He's nervous. Or maybe their relationship isn't as strong as they thought."

Yuki laughed. "Momiji, when did you get to be an expert on relationships?"

"Since I met Tohru."

Yuki looked up, startled. "What are you saying, Momiji?"

"You and I are the same, you know. We both wanted something. That something was meant for someone else."

Yuki frowned. "You're joking. You...liked Honda-san?"

"Hai. And not like a sister. Or a friend. Boku wa honto ni..." He sighed, looking down. But then he brightened.

"But you've moved on, right, Yuki? You have someone you adore now. Someone you love. And I, too..."

Yuki's mouth dropped open. "Honto ni?" He smiled. "That's fantastic, Momiji! I'm very happy for you."

"Mm, I'm happy for me, too." They both laughed. Then Yuki rushed to the window. Outside, looking up, was a girl with dark hair and slightly vacant eyes. A smile spread over his face faster than any delight Momiji had witnessed Yuki experience before. "Shitsureishimasu," he said, and ran out the door.

Momiji watched out the window as Yuki ran across the fresh snow to Machi, picked her up and twirled her around. Then they kissed. It was a sweet kiss, a trusting kiss. But Momiji never did figure out what the two of them did afterwards. They walked around and around in the snow, leaving footprints everywhere they could.

Sore ha: that is...  
Genkan: entry way  
Getabako: place for shoes  
Washitsu: Japanese style room  
Tokonoma: decorative alcove  
Nengajo: New Year's card


	13. Chapter 13: Doloroso

Chapter 13: Doloroso

The night of New Year's Eve, Momiji, on the phone with Michiko, was interrupted by desparate pounding on the door. Startled, he excused himself to her, promised to call again right away, and went to answer the door.

Haru practically fell in.

"Haru!"

"Haru!" Yuki got up from where he had been lazing about under the kotatsu, and hurried over. Haru raised bitter, sad eyes to him. "Hey, welcome back, Yuki," he said in a cynical tone, and walked a couple more steps in before sliding down the length of the wall to the floor. He sat there, head bowed between his updrawn legs.

Momiji quickly drew up the kotatsu and cushions for Haru to warm himself under, and Yuki went to the kitchen for a glass of water. "Haru, what's wrong?" Both boys smelled the alcohol on Haru's breath at once and glanced up at each other, worried.

"Rin...she threw me out...said I was good for nothin', didn't want me around." He laughed hoarsely, sarcastically. "Guess I'm not worthy of being the father of her child, huh?" He looked up at them with glazed eyes.

Yuki frowned when he saw Haru's face more clearly. "Haru, are you trying to grow...a beard?"

Momiji saw it too, now. He had to admit, it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen, and had the situation been significantly more lighthearted, he would have burst out laughing. At the tips of chin and sides of jaw, the beard was black, but filling in the details between and on the tips of the black ends was radiant white.

Yuki's mouth was twitching, even in the present situation. "We'll handle it later," he mouthed to Momiji. "Go make some food, Rabbit," he said aloud.

"Oh, crap, I suck at cooking," he said, going to the kitchen reluctantly to rummage. "I hope you like instant ramen..." Then his expression changed. "Forget it. What else are women for?"

"Strangling," said Haru humorouslessly. Momiji ignored him and picked up his cell phone. "I told her I'd call her back anyway," he explained to Yuki.

"Michiko, can I ask you a favor?"

* * *

Yuki had to admit, he was officially impressed. Momiji had snagged a "looker". Her slender form was apparent even under the heavy wrappings she wore, and her hair was the consistency of black silk. Or was it dark blue? He couldn't decide. She wore a fern green sweater that vivified her eyes, and her cheeks and mouth were rosy red after the walk in the cold air.

Momiji had warned her about the situation, so she had come prepared with a smile and no judgment for the inebriated young man on the floor. Instead, she bowed cheerfully and said, "Hajimemashite, Yuki-san, Hatsuharu-san. My name is Michiko. It's very nice to meet you."

Yuki smiled pleasantly, and even Haru's gaze was somewhat appreciative as she and Momiji whisked off to the kitchen to make tea. A minute later, Momiji backed out of the kitchen, turned to Yuki, rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, heh heh, apparently I'm not alowed in there any more," he said.

"Mm, not sure I blame her," Yuki said, nonchalantly. Momiji made a face. Then he said, "Hey, tomorrow is New Year's. We should all wait for the first rays of sun together, ne? And then go to a shrine in the morning."

"And make a wish?" asked Michiko slyly, coming out of the kitchen with hot tea. Momiji smiled as he got up and took the tray from her. As he precariously balanced the tea on one hand, he slipped the other around her waist and kissed her cheek. "What would you wish for?"

"Mm...a Bosendorfer?"

He snorted as he set the tray down. "Yeah right, that would be like the chances of me getting a Stradivarius or Amati violin."

She laughed. "It was a brief dream." Yuki and Haru were busy partaking of the tea. "I'll bring food out in a minute. Gosh, Momiji, your cupboards are almost bare. How do you live?" she shot at him as she went back into the kitchen.

Yuki grinned at him. "Seriously, how did you end up with a gorgeous girl like that? Is she blind or something?" Momiji narrowed his eyes at him and stuck out his tongue. "I heard that!" came a muffled shout from the kitchen.

Haru was sitting up again. Although his eyes were still glazed, he looked almost back to normal. Except that he looked about five years older since the last time Yuki had seen him. He sat down close to him and patted his shoulder. "Haru...whatever happens, you have to keep this in mind. Rin loves you. She always did, even when you two broke up before. You need to give her another chance. For her. For the baby. For yourself."

Haru sighed, another of those deep sighs. "Before there was Akito, and the curse. We don't have those excuses to rely on anymore."

"Listen, even though those aren't factors anymore, there is still something huge in your life. It's changing her, it's changing you, but when it arrives, it will change both of your lives for the better." He changed his serious expression. "Anyway, it's New Year's Eve. Remember what New Years was like in the past? All of us together, talking, eating, dancing?" He smiled wistfully. "You know, sometimes I miss those days."

Reflection together.

Michiko reappeared a little later with a miraculous meal: red bean rice, steamed vegetables, and somen. As she placed the steaming food in front of the three guys, Momiji thanked whatever New Year's kami had sent her into his life.

* * *

The following morning, Yuki, Momiji and Haru, all bundled up, met Michiko and later Machi at a local shrine, where they, among wishes and laughter and mochi, crowded along with so many others. It was an unprecedented event for the former members of the Zodiac, who would usually avoid such crowds as if they were a particularly dreadful form of plague, but Momiji found himself enjoying it. He had always been far more social than the other two anyway. Holding Michiko's hand so the two of them wouldn't get separated among the crowd, they had such a New Year's as would remain burned in his memory forever.

They bid adieu to Yuki and Machi in the early evening, who went back to Machi's apartment afterwards, ("You two behave yourselves, alright?" *derisive snort*), and the three of them, Momiji, Michiko and Haru, slowly trudged through what remained of the sludgy snow back to Haru's. He seemed to have taken Yuki's words from the previous evening to heart. Momiji and Michiko, who attempted to lighten the lead-like atmosphere surrounding Haru, found themselves falling short of quips and eventually they gave into silence.

They all knew something was wrong before they even knocked on the door, Haru hanging back. Momiji and Michiko turned astonished faces to each other when they heard violent weeping from inside. Momiji instantly opened the door, and the three of them rushed in. Haru's expression changed from gloomy to concern and compassion the instant he saw.

Rin was sitting on the floor in a posture of extreme brokenness. Her short hair was unkempt, her face streaked with tears, and in front of her were various kinds of medicine bottles and a glass of water. Haru immediately ran over to her, collected her in his arms, and cradled her to him. She cried harder, wailing, her arms clutched around him in desperation. They sat like that for a while, and their two forgotten visitors cleared the poisonous table, made tea, and waited until Rin had calmed down enough, sensing that right now the couple was in a rare moment where they didn't want to be left alone.

Haru wiped her face with the (rabbit embroidered) handkerchief Momiji surreptitiously handed him, and taking her face in his hands, peered seriously into her eyes. "Rin...Rin...what happened? I'm here, I love you, everything's going to be all right."

She gulped down her sobs, collecting herself, face stretched in that expression of agonizing pain. "Haru...I went to see our doctor this morning."

"Hatori?"

She shook her head, took another minute to collect herself. "...no. Hatori lives too far away now, I've been seeing someone else. Normally he wouldn't accept a patient on New Year's, but all yesterday I was having terrible pains, and today I started bleeding. Haru..." She broke down again, burying her face in his chest. He grasped her, cradling her against him. After a minute he asked, "Did something happen? Is everything okay with the baby?"

"Haru...we lost the baby."

Complete shock flooded his features, and tears filled his eyes in unbelief, anger, sadness, and a thousand other emotions Momiji knew no words for. He held Rin even tighter to himself, now more to comfort himself than to comfort her. "Rin...I..."

His eyes suddenly changed and, though he did not let go of her, his body began shaking violently. His voice became a terrifying growl as he cried out to the heavens, "DOSHITE?!?" His features crumpled, and he collapsed into Rin's arms, weeping. She, sensing his emotional shock, turned to the comforting role, though she was really in no condition to do that, either. Momiji and Michiko, sensing the couple's brokenness, moved as one to embrace the two of them. There was no lashing out, as Momiji had feared; instead, Haru and Rin accepted the embrace, melting into their willing compassion and mutual grief.

* * *

A couple of hours later saw Momiji and Michiko walking back to Michiko's house in silence, the clamor of the New Year's crowd somewhat diminished, leaving dirty slush and soggy, abandoned paper decorations behind on the streets. He entered with her, numb to her calls of "Pere...je suis maison...Pere?" She frowned. "He doesn't seem to be here. I guess he's visiting a shrine or something."

They sat down together on the floor in the ima, not touching. After a moment, she asked him, "Momiji-kun, daijobu desu ka?"

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Ha," he said after a minute. "I guess I'm just in shock. For Haru and Rin, that baby meant a lot to them. It was a blessing, a gift from Kami-sama. Doshite...doshite in this world is there so much pain? Why is it that the child that is wanted is the one that is lost?"

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "Perhaps because Kami-sama knew that their relationship was falling apart, and that it would take a tragedy instead of a joy to bring them back together again. You can't explain somethings, Momiji. Like why Mere had to die. Or your parents. They're dead, too, aren't they?"

Momiji thought a minute before replying. "Dead to me, yes. More like I'm dead to them. I can't explain it, Michiko. You'll have to understand."

"The family that you're born into is only one family. Eventually, you'll build a new one." She hesitated. "What I want to know is, will I be part of it?"

He looked down into her questioning eyes. He hadn't expected this sort of response from her so soon into their relationship. But he would be lying if he didn't answer truthfully.

"I hope so," he answered honestly.

Mutual smiles. And then, there was that crystallizing moment. He felt a strange pain, but not an unpleasant one, arise in his chest. Their faces moved, as if in slow motion...or was it fast forward?...toward each other. Their lips met in warm, tender contact. They pulled apart for an instant, and then he wrapped his arms around her, and hers around him, and they came back together again with a force that was almost painful. Months of tension broke in that minute, and honestly Momiji wasn't sure how he'd be able to control the raging beast inside of him that wanted more, more.

After awhile, they pulled away from each other, shaking, heated. "Gomen...if we do any more, I won't be able to hold back," he said between gasps for breath, and she nodded. "Ha, wakata. Take your time, it's okay." She melted into his arms against his chest, and he held her in ferocious ecstasy to him.

She and Oni-Michiko both thanked kami for the granted wish.

Unknown to either of them, Hime-san watched from around the corner of his office, smiling. Hai, this was a young man he could trust with his only daughter. He was glad to see her find happiness with him.

Doshite: why?  
Kami: God, gods

Mochi: traditional New Year's sticky rice ball treats


	14. Chapter 14: Appasionato

Chapter 14: Appassionato

The next time they saw each other, there was a bit of an awkward tension between them that swiftly melted away into a comfortable familiarity. He was still a bit embarrassed to kiss her in public, but they took advantage of every minute they had alone; at his apartment, in her practice room, random dark corners walking back after dates. They soon discovered that the first kiss was not the best kiss, despite how media romanticizes it; every kiss afterwards was better as they became more practiced. Oni-Michiko was told to shut up about going farther; truthfully, Michiko thought it was sweet that Momiji wanted to wait until they really knew they loved each other. Having been on the receiving end of the agony that love can produce, he was not about to affect Michiko with the same pain by taking things too quickly.

It was less than a week after New Year's when Momiji finally decided to tell Michiko about his idea.

"Michiko?"

"Hmm?" No matter how much she liked him, once she had gotten her hands on a good score, there was no digging her out of it until she had perused it to her heart's content. He decided to give her a minute to finish; when she looked up, he continued.

"What would you think about a private recital, just you and me, and a friend of mine?"

For a moment her face was blank; then her eyes crinkled with glee as she smiled. "Hai! That would be a blast. As long as you don't make me do a number by myself."

"Iie, no, no, just duet pieces. I was considering Bach's Air on the G string, and some Schubert, and maybe a 20th century piece. Also, I have to include a certain song."

"Which one?"

"Wish Upon a Star."

"Nani?" Some old American kid's piece?

"It's a promise. Also, I want my friend to join me on that one. Just that one. I don't know if she's up for more."

Michiko's eyes narrowed a bit as Oni-Michiko began spouting protests. "Your friend is a girl?"

He laughed at her and kissed the top of her head comfortingly. "Don't worry, it's not like that. She's only eleven, for one thing. For another..."

He shook his head. "It's unimportant. Besides, how could I consider any other girl when I have you?" What about Tohru? something whispered in his mind. He shooed that obnoxious thought away.

Momo was just as excited to hear about the plan as he was to tell her. Naturally, he'd had to ask his father first. But his father had okayed the plan and asked if there was anything he could do to help. Momiji denied needing any help...although he was thinking that he needed to upgrade to a better violin soon. He supposed it wouldn't be any problem if he just went out and bought one, but...

* * *

Shi-san had been more than willing to allow them to use the concert hall for the performance; moreover, he had told Momiji that he'd contacted his friend in Vienna and that he'd agreed to talk to him. That evening, Momiji called the number Shi-san had given him on his phone.

He stood there nervously, eyes wandering about the room, trying to breathe. The phone rang once...twice...three times...finally, someone on the other line picked up. "Ja?"

Momiji took a deep breath, and hesitant, unpracticed German came out. "Hallo, ist mein Name Momiji. Wie gehen Sie?" (Hello, my name is Momiji. How are you?)

"Sie mussen empfolenes Batsushi sein der Violinist." (You must be the violinist Batsushi recommended.)

"Ja, ist das recht." (Yes, that's right.)

"Er eklarte mir einege guten Sachen uber Sie." (He told me some good things about you.)

"Nein, nein..." (No, no...)

Chuckles on the other end. "Er war die gleiche Weise. Es ist fein. Eklaren sei mir: warun mochten Sie Musik erlernen?" (You're just like him. It's okay. Tell me something: why do you want to learn music?)

Momiji thought about it for a moment. "Ich denke, dass es weil ist: Musik ist die faszinierendste Weise der Ubermittlung jeder menschlinchen Erfarung." (I think it's because music is the most fascinating way of conveying human experience.) He thought about it for a minute longer, and then added, "Aber ich bin zu jung, wirklich zu wissen. Das ist, warum ich fortfahren muss zu erlernen." (But I'm too young to really know. That's why I have to continue to learn.)

"Hmm..." A pause on the other end. "Gute Antwort." (Good answer.)

A little sigh. "Gut lassen sie uns furs Erste annehmen, das ich Sie unterrichte." (Well, for now let's assume I will teach you.)

"Arigato...argh...danke."

"Wir sprechen mehr." (We will talk more.)

Since then, there had been several conversations with Herr Fiedler. Shi-san was right; Fiedler was extremely intelligent and extremely proud. Fortunately, Momiji, having been raised in Japan as well as having his own particular personality, was a model of humility and respect. He impressed Fiedler with his eagerness to learn, and after the last conversation, Momiji was told he would be gladly accepted as a pupil.

"So I'm all set to leave for Vienna a couple of weeks after graduation," he told Michiko the day after it had been decided. "The concert will be the week before, and then I'll be setting off." He wondered vaguely what kind of place Vienna was.

Her face set into the last expression he'd expected: annoyance. "And what am I supposed to do? Stay home and knit?"

He was a little astonished. He hadn't thought of that. For whatever reason, whenever he'd pictured himself in Europe, he'd imagined her with him. It had never occurred to him that she wouldn't come.

"Well...well...what am I supposed to do?"

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Then she kissed him in that way she did when she found him extraordinarily annoying and cute at the same time. "Baka! I don't know why I love how dense you are. You're supposed to ask me to come with you, warui usagi!"

He was stunned for a minute, and then a little smile began to form. "Michiko...do you want to come with me to Vienna?"

She feigned disinterest. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I'll just go by myself, find some attractive Austrian man and run off with him."

He took her hands tenderly in his. Despite her playful attitude, she looked up at him with shining eyes. "Chigau. Because if you're in Vienna, I'll find you. If you run away to Paris, I'll run after you. Even if you decide to take to America, I'll go and brave that country just to get to you."

Her answer was not in words. And that was that.

* * *

Momiji found his hours of freedom decreasing rapidly after that. Besides studying for graduation exams, he began to realize exactly how enormous of a project he had taken into his hands. He had to find a technical crew; he had to prepare invitations; he had to arrange for tuning the piano, etc. And then there was the music. He had chosen especially challenging pieces by a large array of composers. Michiko herself complained from time to time about the pieces he had chosen.

"I'm fine with the Schubert Fantasia and Massanet's 'Meditation from Thais', but...but why hand me an orchestral score for the Stravinsky violin concerto?"

"You do it all the time with the community orchestra."

"But this is frickin' Stravinsky! You should know how hard it is yourself just from the violin part! Try reading all the orchestral instruments! Besides, it's absolute sacrilege, converting this score to piano, and you know it."

He gave her his famous sad puppy dog eyes. "Kudasaiiiii?" She couldn't say no after that.

* * *

One afternoon after working with Momo on the violin duet arrangement he himself had arranged from "Wish Upon a Star," his younger sister did the last thing he'd expected.

"Arigato gozaimasu for working with me today, Onii-chan!"

True, it was harmless enough, but Momiji was so sensitive to any referral of kinship between him and Momo that his eyes widened and he gave a little gasp when she said that. "Momo-chan...why did you call me that?"

"Because you're just like a big brother, Onii-chan. You're kind, and sweet, and you teach me all sorts of things. Plus, you look just like Mutti."

"Iie, chigau..."

"Nein!" Momo's German response broke Momiji's resolve, and he dropped to one knee and held her tight to him. Consequences be damned. For once, he wanted to enjoy this moment. "Hai, I'll be your Onii-chan," he whispered into her hair. "Demo...just don't tell your papa, okay? He wouldn't understand?"

"Doshite?"

"Please just trust me."

A little bit of silence. Then: "Ja."

He straightened up and patted her head. "I think I hear your Mutti coming to pick you up. Put away your violin carefully, kudasai."

As Momo put away her violin, their mother came into the room, wrapped in some filmy garment that she loved to wear. "Did you have fun, Momo-chan?" she asked the little girl.

"Hai!" Momo ran ahead with her violin, after waving goodbye to Momiji, and their mother started to follow. Then she stopped, turned around, and faced Momiji.

"Thank you for everything you've done for my little girl, Momiji-kun." She gave him the smile that he wished he could see every day. "She is always so happy, coming to work with you, and she is looking forward to the concert more than school getting out." She hesitated. "This may sound very strange, but...if Momo had an older brother, I'd wish he were like you."

Momiji flushed crimson as he bowed. "Iie...that's too much...arigato..."

She laughed a little. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Momiji-kun. Ja matta ne."

"Ja ne."

* * *

Graduation came, and with it came Tohru and Kyou (Yuki still hung up at college with exams). Although he was busy, Momiji made sure to wait for them at the train station. Softly pink blossoms floated lazily in the breeze that stirred up the sakura tree he was sitting under, and he thought briefly of the strange significance of them at this moment. Only a year ago, he had been pining after someone he couldn't have, now he was merely waiting for an old friend. He had been a fledgling, struggling violinist with no idea of how to accomplish his dreams; now he was traveling to Vienna to study with a master artist. How light, how transitory was this fleeting life.

"Live in simple faith  
Just as this trusting cherry  
Flowers, fades, and falls."

As he softly quoted the immortal lines of Issa, a screeching of brakes announced the arrival of the expected train. The doors opened; among the other people stepped out a tall man with orange hair. Turning back, he held out a hand to the beautiful brown-haired woman behind him.

Momiji still could not help but catch his breath. But he remembered Michiko; and his longing lessened, and gradually disappeared.

He stepped lightly over to the couple with his trademark smile. "Tohru-kun! How are you? How was your trip?"

He attempted to take her bags, but Kyou beat him to it with a glare. Momiji laughed it off. "Kyou-kun, it's been a long time, ne? How's the dojo going?"

His older cousin's face softened. "It's going well. Although there are a lot of challenges, I have an angel to guide me through my hard days and rejoice with my good days." He smiled at his beautiful bride-to-be. "And soon I will make that angel's residence permanent."

Ah, the wedding! It couldn't be said that he'd forgotten about it, but what with graduation, the upcoming recital, and his preparations to leave Japan, it had been shoved to the back of his mind. "I still can't believe you're getting married, Tohru-kun! Hey," to Kyou, "you be nice to her, or I'll make you pay, okay?"

Both of them laughed, and Tohru found herself gazing at Momiji in a new way than before. He'd grown up. Well, he'd grown up physically earlier, but now there was something about his very manner--something that let her know he was beyond Popsicles and rabbit backpacks.

She was a little sad that he'd grown up.

* * *

The evening that he, Haru, Jakob and Freia all graduated, celebrating by going out for "tea" afterwards, Momiji, putting on a light spring jacket to run over to practice with Michiko, heard a knock on his apartment door.

He froze momentarily. He knew that knock. He opened the door. "Please come in, Otou-san."

His father entered his apartment for the first time since he'd helped Momiji choose it, a little sheepishly. In his hands he carried a violin case. Momiji found himself eying it curiously. It was an expensive case, he knew that at a glance.

"Momiji, I'm sorry I was unable to attend your graduation this afternoon."

"Iie, daijobu desu yo. I understand; it would be unnatural and would raise awkward questions." Secretly he'd wished all three of them had been there, but he'd known it was a dream. At least Michiko and Hime-san had been there, so it was almost like he had family present.

His father held out the case to him. "A graduation gift. I...I'm so proud of you, son. If only the curse hadn't existed..." He sighed heavily.

"But sometimes trials bring people closer together, right?" Momiji responded. Then he smiled, and held out a hand.

His father took it warmly, then pulled his son in for a tight embrace. As the two of them stood there, Momiji felt tears form in his eyes. If only this didn't have to be held a secret...if only his mother were here to hug him with that delicious smile of hers, and Momo to entwine herself around his legs.

But that was dreaming, and this was the world. The two men pulled apart, and his father gestured to the violin case, which he had placed on the floor. "I don't really know anything about choosing violins, but if Momo's teacher's expression meant anything..."

Momiji opened it with questioning eyes. The shiny buckles slid open with a cheerful clip, and then there it was.

He picked it, hardly daring to breathe, not believing it.

A Nicolo Amati violin. To be more accurate, a replica, but an old, extraordinarily accurate replica.

He looked up at his father, astonishment cutting short every word of thanks he knew in either Japanese or German.

His father smiled back at him. "Well, is it a fitting instrument?"

"Papa..."

He picked up the violin with the accompanying bow, tuned the strings slightly, and adjusted it under the side of his chin. He felt the hard curves against his collar bone and jaw; he slid his left hand gently up and down the neck. Then he put the bow to the strings and played an open D, just to hear the sound. The note gave way to something he from his distant memory; some old, foreign film he'd watched on a whim.

He was the Fiddler on the Roof. His father listened, appreciatively, to the Hebrew melody, naturally imbibed with longing, sorrow, and a very cynical joy for life.

He made a mental note to include it in the program for the recital.

The notes finished, and his father, after a minute, began applauding and clapped him on the shoulder. Then his expression changed from pleasure to something between sadness, joy, worry and pride. "You're leaving Japan in a couple of weeks."

Momiji flushed. "Hai, Otou-san."

"When did you find out for sure?"

"A week or so ago. I can't wait, but at the same time..." It was Japan, after all. One didn't just leave Japan, as if one casually tosses aside a scarf. "I'm going, but I'll be back," he said, furiously trying to convince himself it was true. After all, if Shi-san had come back after such a successful career in Europe, surely he would return someday, too.

Chigau: wrong (chigaumasen: not wrong)


	15. Chapter 15: Coda

Chapter 15: Coda

"Kawaaaiiiiiii!!!"

"Ano, arigato, Tohru-san, but you're a little loud," Michiko said, rubbing her ears around the older girl's arms, which were currently glued around her neck.

"Eh? Gomen nasai!" She immediately began bowing in apology. Momiji suddenly entered the room from the bedroom.

"Ah, Tohru-kun, I'm so glad you made it! Where's Kyou?"

"He's currently visiting Shishou-san and Hana-chan," she replied. "He thought I'd like to go over, but I saw Hana-chan and Uo-chan yesterday, and you insisted I meet someone. This must be Michiko-san?"

"Hai. Hajimemashite, Tohru-san," said Michiko, bowing to her. Tohru reciprocated the action. "Aaaand..." with a mischievous smile in Momiji's direction, "is there any particular reason why you're looking at her like she's the pride of your life, Momiji, or am I mistaken?"

Momiji grinned as he stood by Michiko and placed an arm around her waist. "Chigaumasen, Tohru-kun."

"Well then, you must call me Tohru-chan, Michiko-chan. If you're Momiji's girlfriend, then naturally we must be friends!"

Michiko, summing the looks that passed between Momiji and Tohru, ascertained the truth prestissimo. That Momiji had been in love with her; that she had loved someone else; that Momiji had pined for her, struggled and overcome. And that was how she had the Momiji she had now.

She owed Tohru-chan for so many things already, and she had just met her.

"I'll get some tea," she said, and Tohru immediately responded, "Iie, I'll get it!" The two of them deferred to each other all the way into the kitchen and then settled into helping each other put on that tea. Momiji, sitting down on a cushion in the ima, smiled affectionately, picturing the two of them that way.

Seeing the two of them side by side swept aside all doubts he'd had. Although he still had feelings for Tohru, they were gradually fading into feelings of friendship, whereas his feelings for Michiko grew stronger every day.

* * *

Two days before Tohru's wedding, Momiji and Michiko were in the throes of preparing for the recital that evening. After running over the beginning measures of each piece on his Amati, they dispersed to get dressed and then met back together to giggle nervously, breathe slowly and jump up and down a couple of times; when they did the last action, Momiji felt the heavy weight of the box in his coat pocket and remembered that there was one more thing he needed to do before the recital.

He pulled said box out of his pocket and offered it to Michiko, whose eyes widened and mouth became a large "O". "For my beautiful accompanist, in gratitude for the many hours she has put in on my behalf, for the Stravinsky concerto she slaved over," she giggled here, "and in hopes that she will be willing to work together in the future." He smiled as she opened it, and gaped in amazement.

"Momiji-kun...you..."

He took the necklace from her and, as she held her blue-black hair out of the way, fastened it around her neck, with a kiss on the nape of her neck for good measure. She closed her eyes at the sensual touch. Then he came back around and surveyed his work. The row of emeralds, accented with tiny diamonds, reflected the glitter of her eyes which met his in an expression that made him thank Hatori for his suggestion: "Nothing makes a girl into a woman like jewels, Momiji-kun."

She moved to kiss him, but at that moment Momo ran up, followed by her mother. The little girl, violin case in hand, halted suddenly as she came in sight of the two.

Momiji asked her, "Do you want to meet this young lady, Momo-chan?" She nodded shyly. "Don't you think she's pretty, Momo-chan?" This time an adorable smile popped out. "Not pretty, Onii-chan."

"Ah? What would you call her?"

"Mm...beautiful!"

Both Momiji and Michiko laughed. "Would it make you happy to have her be your Onee-chan, Momo-chan?"

"Hai!" Michiko knelt down and gave the little girl a hug; a question was in her eyes for Momiji, but he shook his head. This was a bad time for an explanation.

Now there were three people backstage giggling nervously, breathing deeply and jumping up and down. And then it was time for Momiji and Michiko's first piece of the evening, and they went out together to loud applause. Looking out over the audience through the bright stage lights, he could tell that nearly every Sohma was there. Jakob and Freia were there. Shi-san and half the orchestra were there. Most of his students with their parents were there. No wonder the applause sounded so loud.

As they began in with Elgar's Salud d'Amor, Momiji knew that every ear was appreciative. And that...that made him more happy than the notes.

* * *

After he and Momo finished "Wish Upon a Star", left the stage, came back for more applause, left, came back yet again, and then headed over for the reception, he found himself being stolen away by Michiko, who had learned her lesson after the Brahms evening. Having made off with her prey, she then proceeded to pin him against a wall and make out with him. Momiji, besides being initially startled at the "I am a hunter" look in Michiko's eyes, appreciatively took said physical contact, until they both heard a soft, "Ahem" behind them.

Blushing and laughing at the same time, they faced Shi-san, who, having got their attention, began to clap. When he had finished, he placed a hand on Momiji's shoulder. "Fiedler told me that he'd accepted you. But you, young lady," with a stern look, "didn't tell me you were leaving, too. What do you expect me to do without a pianist, eh? Ah, you young people. Just when I've trained you up, you run off and find higher dreams. Ungrateful miscreants..."

They laughed at him. "We'll send you word from Vienna, all right?" Momiji said. "And in the meantime, there's a certain troublemaker student I need you to keep an eye on for me. He should be here tonight; I wonder where Suza got to?"

Then it was off to the reception, where family and friends greeted them and gushed over them. And it was pretty apparent to all, seeing his arm around her waist, that Momiji-kun had laid claim to that beautiful pianist.

Hiro, besides smirking, was also happy that Momiji had finally taken his advice.

* * *

Yuki arrived, Machi in tow, the morning of Kyou and Tohru's wedding. In typical Tohru style, the wedding was very simple and very small, with just the old members of the Juunishi and their "significant others". Kakeru had whined to Yuki for a full hour before, at Momiji's apartment, that he wasn't invited.

"Honda-san doesn't know you or Komaki very well," Yuki had replied calmly. "It would embarrass her to have people there that she hasn't spent a lot of time with. Besides, don't you have your own wedding to plan?"

Kakeru chuckled. "You're one to talk."

Momiji kind of gaped at both of them. "Nani...when..." he sputtered.

They both looked up him with a "well, now aren't you just an idiot" look on their faces. "Honestly, Momiji, if you ever managed to raise your head to breathe the air once in a while between kissing your girlfriend, you'd find out that there's a lot going on nowadays. Seriously, how did you even remember Honda-san's wedding?" Yuki winked at Kakeru.

"That's not fair," Momiji countered. Between everything that had been going on since New Year's, he hadn't had two minutes to himself. By the time the dust had cleared, so to speak, the summer engagements had turned into early spring weddings; love was in the air, apparently, since at least two more engagements had been announced that he'd not known about, and one more which he had.

Haru and Rin showed up to the wedding holding hands, looking as though they'd weathered a thousand storms and come out on the other end as one. Yuki and Momiji knew they didn't have to worry about them any more, which was good, since neither of them had time to.

That day was a sunny day, a warm day that wrapped one in comfortable kindness and soft light which removed all blemishes and left only beauty behind. Naturally, there was the traditional wedding first, at the shrine where Tohru's mother was, and then after that, a Western style wedding and reception at Shigure's old house. For the first time since the two of them had left the Sohma estate (but still taking charge, from afar), Momiji saw Akito and Shigure enter, somewhat awkwardly, though of course comedy arose when the "Mabudachi trio" got together. Between Ayame's flourishes of his new-born baby and Hatori's dead-pan put-downs, there was little to be left.

And then, like that, Tohru was married. Momiji was happy for her; holding Michiko's hand while they observed the ceremony made him even more certain of his decision.

* * *

The five very short days left before their departure found the two of them scurrying around with hardly enough time for a hello, let alone a kiss. After saying goodbye to Tohru and Kyou, he set Yuki to work around the apartment ("Why me?" "Consider it hotel payment.") packing up dishes, books, etc. They bought airplane tickets; they arranged for a hotel to stay at when they arrived in Vienna before they found a place to stay; they began shipping off belongings.

Momiji was going through all his old high school papers in his desk the afternoon before leaving, sorting out what essays might be useful for the future and which were junk, when he came across an old pile of rabbit stationary. He picked up the first page and started reading. Fifteen minutes later, Michiko ran into the room and flung her arms around his neck, laughing. He placed one arm around her, also laughing, and maneuvered what he had been reading under a pile of "junk" papers.

"Oi, what's up?" he asked her. "Nothing, I'm just happy," she said. "Pere and I have been organizing and packing, and we're just about finished, so I decided to come over and see you! I haven't seen you in about a million years."

He planted a kiss on her forehead. "After tomorrow, there won't be any more of those days."

"No, there won't." Then her eyes became a little sad. "I'm worried about Pere, though," she said. "We haven't been separated, ever. How is he going to manage without me?"

Momiji thought back to the conversation he had had with Hime-san the day after he'd asked Michiko to come to Vienna with him. Clearly, the older man was resigned to the fact that his daughter had already made up her mind to go; yet, something about his manner made Momiji ask him, "Are you sure this is all right, Hime-san?"

A sigh. "Hai," finally. "My selfishness would only hold mon fille back. She's talented, Momiji; surely you can see that yourself. The greatest mistake I ever made was letting mon femme to give up her musical career." He raised pleading eyes to Momiji. "Don't make the same mistake. Even if you two start a family some day, even if life seems hard, don't let her give up her music."

Silence. "Ha."

Thinking back on the conversation, he put a gentle hand on Michiko's back and gave her a little shove towards the door. "Go spend this last afternoon with your father, Michiko. It may be a while before you see him again." She nodded, leaving him to the final preparations.

* * *

He had just finished packing the last box when the sunlight began to die, leaving golden light bathing his empty apartment. He went over the rooms slowly, thinking, considering, remembering. From now on, he wouldn't have a room to himself. There would be someone there when he got home in the evening. There would be someone to bid him a cheerful "Oyaho!" when he woke up in the morning. There would be pickle jars in the refrigerator.

He suddenly realized. The letter! He scrambled through the documents he'd decided to save frantically. Where was it? Not here...where? Where had he put it? Ah! With the papers he had thrown away! He rushed over to his trash bin; he had already taken it out to the larger bin outside! Had the garbage man already taken it away? He took the stairs two at a time, and sighed with relief when he saw the overflowing bin outdoors. No, not yet. But...oh dear, did he have to go through all of that...?

The letter was back in his hands, now, mostly undamaged. He picked it up, finished the last page. '_Someday, I hope I will be well-liked, and have a family...For me to be among those finding a great sweetheart, I will look to others."_ He smiled. No, he wouldn't send it yet. But maybe someday...

* * *

Sweet fragrance caressed the breeze. It was a playful breeze, a gentle but energetic breeze which flitted from tree to grass, carrying along a hundred scents. It paused for a minute as it passed through silky blue-black tresses, enjoying the softness. Then it brushed past pink cheeks and pickle-green eyes before continuing on its way.

He saw her, saw the way her hair lifted in the wind, her beautiful form clothed with a soft cotton dress. He caught his breath, and then moved forward with light steps to join her where she stood.

"Homesick already?" he asked. She turned and smiled.

"Iie. Not when I look at that tree."

He looked where she indicated, took a deep breath and leaned against the rail of the bridge, staring uncomprehendingly at the glancing streetlight beams on the ripples of the lake. He held his breath, letting it go bit by bit, as if to see how long he could last. "In all this world, I don't know if there are any 'safe' places left to go," he said, finally, shifting his gaze to a bird which was cleaning its wings on the branch of the flowering plum; it reminded them both of blossom festivals in Japan.

She smiled slightly and moved closer to him. When he dropped his left arm to his side, she slipped her hand into his and caught his roving gaze. "Iie," she said, "but there are many, many interesting places."

_Fine_

Kawaii: cute  
Onee-san: big sister  
Ohayo: good morning


	16. Author's Notes

Author's Notes

First of all, congratulations on finishing my fanfic! I wrote it for a more educated audience, and I know my style is a little unusual. Good job plowing through it!

The musical terminology I've used is probably familiar if you're a musician, but I thought I'd clarify for anyone unsure.

The meanings of the chapter titles:

Intrada (beginning)

Libramente (freely)

Pacato (peacefully)

Allegro (happily)

Con mosso ma non troppo (with movement but not too much)

Intermezzo (I'm not entirely sure how to translate this into English, but it's like a piece that comes between two movements)

Ardito (courageously)

Mediatamente (thoughtfully)

Eroica (heroically)

Mesto (sadly)

Con brio (with joy)

Jubiloso (victoriously)

Doloroso (grieving)

Appasionato (passionately)

Coda (the end of a piece)

The violin Momiji recieves from his father is a replica of a Nicolo Amati violin. It has to be a replica because most of the surviving Amati violins are currenly in museums, like the one mentioned in ch. 5. Amati was the most famous violin maker of his time and also made many alterations to the existing model to make it into the violin type that we know of today. Stradivarius, of course, is probably the best-known violin maker of all time.

Michiko mentions a Bosendorfer piano. This is the most expensive kind of piano ever made. I've only seen one in real life, myself; my piano teacher had the enormous privelege of being able to play it for a concert I was in once upon a time in high school.

"con moto ma non troppo" means with motion but not too much.

The oboe abuse is straight out of the mouth of my orchestration professor. The oboe is a lovely instrument, and I love writing for it, but it's a hassel to play and one of the rules of orchestration is "Thou shalt not have two oboes playing the same note at the same time" because they'll be tuned slightly off of one another and it'll be apparent if they play together. Unison means the same note; a minor second is the smallest musical interval (think "Jaws").

Vienna is the musical capitol of the world, or something like that. It's in Austria.

The pieces I mentioned are (oh, boy, here we go):

Mendelssohn's Konsertstucke

Brahm's Violin Concerto in D

Paganni's Caprice 24 (Hilary Hahn's interpretation of this one is great)

Schubert's Impromptu no. 4

Bach's Fugue in C# major (this is a bit of me speaking; that one almost killed me)

Bach's Fugue in E minor (also me speaking; this one's brilliant!)

Bach's Air on the G string

Wish Upon a Star (of course)

Schubert's Fantasia for violin and piano

Massanet's Meditation from Thais

Stravinsky's violin concerto (they only do the 1st movement)

The theme from "Fiddler on the Roof"

A few little things:

I'm sorry I wrote so many languages into this story! Sumimasen! The thing is, of course the story is written in English (which humors me since technically no one in the story actually says anything in English except for that Robert Burns poem, which is really in old Scottish). Then there's the Japanese phrases that I used all over the place. Then there's the fact that Michiko and her father speak French to each other sometimes. Then there was all the Italian vocab floating around, and the German conversation...at a certain point, it became a joke to see how many languages I could put in. (Sadly, I couldn't put in any of the Korean, Spanish, Latin or Greek I know, and I think I know how to say "I love you" in Russian, and count to ten in Arabic ^^). If you speak any of these wonderful languages fluently and can think of a place where I've used a term improperly, please let me know and I will change it immediately.

A little side note: Jakob and Freia Nakamuro are from "a little town, outside of Darlig ulv Stranden". If you got this joke, major kudos! It's actually a reference to a British sci-fi TV series called "Dr. Who". That's what the random "big bad wolf" joke in ch. 8 is all about, too. "Darlig ulv Stranden" means "bad wolf bay".

Michiko says "I'll be back" to the Bach piece. I expect you to get this one. If not, try saying it like Arnold Schwartzenegger.

When Momiji describes Reiko as "like the thing that wouldn't shut up," this is a quote from "Emperor's New Groove". Best movie ever!

Issa is my favorite haiku poet. I wanted to put that poem in Japanese, but I couldn't find it anywhere and didn't want to slaughter it by translating it back into Japanese.

There are several names with meanings:

Hime Michiko: Her given name is the same as the current Empress of Japan. Her last name means "princess". Both of these are incidental. I didn't plan it that way; it just happened. Her father's name is Hatori, by the way.

Jakob: he who supplants (this really doesn't have anything to do with the story, though)

Freia: goddess of love and seduction (although she really wasn't, heh)

Reiko: I actually just made this one up on the spot, and then I looked it up later. It is a real name, meaning "beautiful".

"Shi-san": Shi is number 4 in Japanese, also means "death" This really doesn't mean anything about Batsushi-san, it's just because Momiji thinks of it and is humored.

The first violinist who hurts his wrist in ch. 11 doesn't get any attention and is shamefully ignored by the author. His name, Shiro, means blank or white.

The German violinist in Vienna, Herr Fiedler, means "fiddler".

This is all me being cheeky, by the way. I'm one of those weird writers (in story and in music) who puts in little things that the audience might not notice, and then sits back and chuckles pridefully to themself.

I hope you all enjoyed "First Chair Violinist"! More coming soon.


End file.
